"jO  WARDS 

THE   GUJLF 


TOWARDS    THE  GULF 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF 


Homance  of  Coutstana 


To  meet  was  Jove — the  love  that  leads  to  death — 
And  yet,  God  ruling  heaven  and  earth — they  met'1'1 


NEW    YORK 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  FRANKLIN  SQUARE 

LONDON:   30  FLEET  STREET 
1887 


Copyright,  1886,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 


All  rights  reserved. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE  circumstances  which  surrounded  old 
Madam  Morant  were  so  favorable  that  the 
announcement  of  her  intention  to  build  a 
winter  residence  in  New  Orleans  was  received 
by  her  friends  with  marked  satisfaction. 
Among  the  delightful  things  said  of  her,  one 
might  have  heard  such  expressions  as  have 
been  common  to  all  times  in  similar  cases: 

'  The  most  charming  woman  one  could 
meet." 

"  Eminently  fitted  to  be  a  social  leader." 

"  Entitled  to  one's  gratitude,  for  she  will 
entertain  royally." 

"  What  a  magnificent  place  she  can  make 
of  it !" 

And  some  commented  freely  upon  the  prob 
able  extent  of  the  income  which  would  enable 


8  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

her  to  support  almost  princely  style.  There 
were  large  plantations  and  innumerable  slaves. 
They  were  certainly  equal  to  enormous  drafts 
upon  their  resources,  and  it  was  intimated  that 
there  were  lucrative  investments  in  France, 
which  added  materially  to  the  Madam's  wealth. 
Her  discretion  in  the  selection  of  locality  was 
commended.  There  was  no  doubt  that  real 
estate  was  advancing  in  the  chosen  section, 
and  for  neighbors,  all  agreed  that  with  one  or 
two  exceptions  she  would  have  the  best  the 
old  municipality  could  boast. 

When  the  house  was  completed,  it  was  con 
sidered  the  finest  in  the  neighborhood,  in  fact 
many  considered  it  the  finest  in  the  whole 
city.  Possibly  it  was.  One  must  concede 
something  to  tradition. 

The  Madam's  friends  were  not  disappoint 
ed  in  their  expectations  of  splendid  hospital 
ity.  So  long  as  she  lived  she  dispensed  it. 
In  the  enjoyment  of  her  worldly  advantages 
she  contributed  unselfishly  and  largely  to  the 
pleasure  of  others,  while  the  harmony  and 
unity  of  her  temper  extended  her  life  into 
beautiful  old  age  and  distinguished  its  close. 
Few  ever  spoke  of  her  husband.  He  made 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  9 

little  impression  on  his  small  world,  but  her 
name  was  potential  long  after  she  passed  away 
from  all  her  great  possessions.  Her  descend 
ants  often  boasted  of  her  grandeur,  and  with 
a  remnant  of  her  wealth  supported  claims  to 
social  distinction  which  were  never  disputed 
by  those  who  came  within  their  exclusive  cir 
cle. 

The  house  is  yet  occupied ;  but  one  chanc 
ing  to  enter  a  certain  dilapidated  old  ceme 
tery  in  the  heart  of  the  city  may  decipher  the 
old  Madam's  name  under  the  "  Ici  Repose  " 
which  prefaces  a  long  inscription  commemo 
rating  her  talents  and  virtues. 

Time  in  its  progress  from  good  to  bad  and 
from  bad  to  worse  wrought  many  changes  in 
the  old  French  district  where  the  house  was 
built.  Wealth  came  and  vanished.  The 
drift  of  improvement,  for  a  long  time  totally 
arrested,  was  afterwards  in  an  entirely  differ 
ent  direction.  The  region  reached  a  period 
in  its  decline  when  stagnation  became  pictu 
resque  and  silence  eloquent.  Strange  phan 
toms  flitted  with  singular  pertinacity  before 
the  imagination  of  those  who  entered  this 
quaint  old  quarter,  clothing  themselves  in  ro- 


10  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

mantic  garb,  and  conveying  to  the  senses  the 
prevailing  pathos  of  an  irrevocable  past. 

At  the  date  of  which  we  write,  one  trying 
to  find  the  Madam's  house  would  have  suc 
ceeded  only  after  a  long  stroll  through  quiet, 
almost  deserted  streets.  A  tall,  three-storied 
building,  rising  with  a  prison-like  front  straight 
up  from  the  banquet,  each  story  marked  by 
a  row  of  ancient,  slatless  blinds  always  closed 
to  the  world  of  sunshine  and  shadow  without, 
one  might  well  pause  before  it  to  consider  the 
merit  of  tradition.  Its  attractiveness  was  cer 
tainly  apart  from  its  proportions.  Possessing 
no  architectural  beauty,  it  appealed  to  an  ar 
tistic  eye  only  through  its  suggestiveness  of 
a  romantic  past.  The  front  door,  battered  and 
weather-stained,  with  rusty  hinges  and  dull 
lock,  bore  witness  that  hospitable  intent  no 
longer  dominated  the  entrance. 

To  the  right,  a  wall  scarcely  lower  than  the 
first  story  of  the  building  excluded  from  view 
the  garden  in  which  the  old  Madam  planted 
the  aged  evergreens  still  surviving  neglect  and 
ill-usage. 

On  long  afternoons,  while  the  old  house  im- 
browned  itself  in  the  advancing  shadows,  the 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  II 

fading  sunlight  rested  upon  a  small  house 
over  the  way,  whose  single  window  struggled 
to  catch  the  declining  rays  in  the  same  hope 
less,  appealing  way  that  it  had  done  ever  since 
its  pretentious  neighbor  had  first  frowned 
upon  it.  In  the  Madam's  day  there  used  to 
come  every  morning  to  the  low  front  door  of 
this  little  house  a  fine-looking  woman,  noted 
for  the  whiteness  of  the  neckerchief  which 
was  crossed  upon  the  bosom  of  her  black 
gown,  the  creamy  pallor  of  a  skin  once  very 
beautiful,  and  the  sadness  of  large  dark  eyes 
which  were  never  raised  to  catch  the  light  ex 
cept  when,  taking  her  seat  on  the  low  steps, 
she  threaded  the  glittering  needle  which  rep 
resented  bread  and  life  to  her  and  hers.  Be 
sides  the  poor  seamstress,  there  might  be  seen 
occasionally  passing  beyond  the  open  door 
way  slenderer  figures  and  younger  ones,  a 
dark,  rich-colored,  merry  face  and  another  pal 
lid  and  sad-eyed.  Did  one  comment  on  their 
strange  dark  beauty,  there  came  instantly  the 
chill  shadow  of  reproach,  the  shadow  of  race 
distinction  in  the  frown  which  silenced  dis 
cussion  of  it. 

A  certain  class  of  gossips  formerly  created 


12  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

a  lively  interest  by  stories  told  of  these  peo 
ple.  It  was  said  that  a  Virginia  trader 
brought  to  a  slave-yard  in  the  neighborhood 
two  beautiful  quadroon  girls.  They  were  sis 
ters,  and  on  account  of  their  extreme  grace 
fulness  and  beauty  they  were  held  at  a  mar 
vellous  price  by  the  dealer  in  human  flesh. 
One  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  wealthy  planter, 
distinguished  alike  for  his  intelligence  and 
his  conviviality,  and  was  carried  off,  a  pant 
ing  picture  of  horror  and  despair,  to  a  remote 
plantation.  The  other  was  purchased  by  a  fa 
mous  gambler,  who,  when  tired  of  his  bargain, 
gave  the  woman  and  her  children  their  free 
dom,  and  the  little  house,  even  then  falling  into 
decay,  as. .a  home.  They  had  all  drifted  away 
in  some  strange,  mysterious  manner,  and  the 
little  house  had  ever  since  been  closed  to 
human  occupancy.  Old  Pasquale,  the  wrin 
kled  Dago  who  kept  the  corner  fruit  and  oys 
ter  shop,  with  its  swarming  flies  and  its  fetid 
smells,  could  have  told  one  a  great  deal  about 
them  if  he  had  been  less  dull  and  superstitious. 
Perhaps  the  only  other  person  who  distinctly 
remembered  them  was  Celine,  an  aged  negress, 
the  immemorial  property  of  the  Morants. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  13 

An  object  strangely  incongruous  with  its 
surroundings  is  no  unusual  fact  in  the  boun 
dary  of  one's  vision,  indicating  as  it  frequent 
ly  does  the  beginning  of  one  of  Nature's  per 
petually  recurring  changes  from  progress  to 
decay,  and  from  decay  to  progress  again. 
Thus  the  single  exception  to  the  general  an 
tiquity  and  dilapidation  of  the  neighborhood 
at  the  time  under  our  consideration  could 
not  fail  to  strike  one.  A  saucy-looking  green- 
and-white  cottage  occupied  a  corner  lot  which 
had  once  formed  part  of  the  garden  attached 
to  the  quadroon's  property.  It  marked  the 
growth  of  a  new  influence  which  had  begun 
to  assert  itself,  and  there  were  neighboring 
eyes  which  would  not  look  upon  its  aggres 
sive  assumption  of  prosperity.  Such  small 
things  do  sometimes  add  weight  to  burdens 
already  hard  to  bear. 

A  survey  of  the  rigidly  closed  shutters  of 
the  Madam's  old  house  would  determine  the 
fact  that  its  occupants  followed  the  prece 
dents  of  their  generation  in  utterly  ignoring 
and  never  voluntarily  acknowledging  by  so 
much  as  a  glance  the  existence  of  disagree 
able  facts. 


14  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

The  occupants  were  descendants  of  the  old 
Madam,  inheriting  her  pride,  winning  temper, 
and  love  of  social  pre-eminence,  restricted 
only  in  the  exercise  of  these  qualities  by  the 
poverty  which  they  had  neither  the  training 
nor  mental  vigor  to  overcome. 

Reverses  of  fortune  and  other  calamities 
had  closed  the  house.  For  a  series  of  years 
no  Morant  occupied  it;  but  a  sentiment  of 
pride  added  to  one  of  judicious  economy  had 
induced  the  last  members  of  this  old  family 
to  redeem  the  place  by  payment  of  taxes  long 
due  upon  it,  and  once  more  to  establish  them 
selves  there. 

One  might  have  waited  for  days  for  any  sign 
of  life  about  the  place,  unless  one  chanced  to 
be  near  by,  when  very  rarely,  and  only  in  the 
early  morning  hours,  old  Celine,  the  one  serv 
ant  of  the  household,  opened  a  small,  rusty 
gate  in  the  garden  wall,  and  sallied  forth  to 
market. 

The  stately  old  negress  never  looked  to 
the  right  nor  to  the  left  as  she  passed  slowly 
through  the  deserted  streets.  Apparently 
things  present  possessed  no  significance  for 
her;  but  a  solemn  stare  and  an  occasional 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  15 

shake  of  the  head  seemed  to  hint,  possibly,  of 
unspoken  memories  of  glories  passed  away 
forever. 

Frugal  ways  had  been  learned  under  press 
ure  of  circumstances,  and  the  basket  she  car 
ried  never  came  back  heavily  laden. 

The  prying  little  woman  in  the  green-and- 
white  cottage,  who  flattened  her  nose  daily 
against  the  -front  window-pane,  knew  how  lit 
tle  it  contained,  though  she  had  never  ex 
changed  a  word  with  its  .bearer;  but  in  igno 
rance  of  the  impertinent  curiosity  which  en 
joyed  counting  the  vegetables  in  the  basket, 
no  less  than  spying  out  the  cobwebs  in  the 
neighbors'  entry,  the  old  negress  went  her  way 
silently  and  peacefully. 

The  qualifications  for  gayety  were  not  to 
be  found  among  the  members  of  the  family 
which  secluded  itself  behind  closed  shutters, 
and  life  inside  the  house  was  in  accord  with 
the  dulness  around  it. 

Its  dulness  mattered  little  to  good  old  Ma 
jor  Morant,  the  head  of  the  household,  the 
only  remaining  and  oldest  son  of  the  charm 
ing  Madam :  for  all  the  rest  had  either  died 
before  they  had  been  summoned  to  defend 


l6  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

the  South,  or  had  perished  on  its  battle-fields. 
He  had  reached  that  period  when  monotony 
was  the  essential  harmony  in  a  life  which  had 
sounded  most  pleasures.  His  youth  and  mid 
dle  age  had  been  singularly  free  from  care. 
Wealth  and  position  had  come  to  him  by  in 
heritance,  and  his  life  had  been  modelled  upon 
the  epicurean  philosophy;  yet  fate  had  spared 
him  many  virtues.  When  loss  of  fortune  came, 
mainly  by  unfortunate  speculation,  and  the 
world  had  nothing  more  to  offer,  he  bore  it 
kindly,  and  his  old  age  crystallized  into  sim 
ple  childlike  content. 

There  was  yet  left  for  his  enjoyment  his 
cosey  arm-chair,  his  daily  cigar,  and  the  small 
chess -table  at  which  he  spent  many  hours 
pondering  problems  that  never  grew  quite 
clear  to  his  failing  faculties. 

The  major  was  proud  of  his  descent  from 
the  Morants,  but  prouder  still  of  the  Hugue 
not  blood  which  flowed  in  his  veins.  From 
this  latter  source  came  the  courtly  manners 
which  distinguished  the  gallant  old  gentle 
man,  and  made  him  attractive  even  in  his  ad 
vanced  years.  His  hair  was  thin  and  white, 
and  his  shoulders  bent ;  but  his  speech  was 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  17 

never  querulous  or  bitter.  Life,  though  hard 
now,  had  been  worth  a  great  deal  in  the  days 
gone  by,  and  with  the  memory  of  those  days 
lighting  up  the  shadows  of  the  present  he  met 
Time's  advances  with  smiles  which  ploughed 
furrows  in  all  the  pleasant  curves  about  his 
kindly  mouth  and  merry  blue-gray  eyes. 

The  youth  of  his  only  daughter  Isabel  had 
surrendered  to  sadder  circumstances.  The 
loss  of  fortune  and  necessity  for  economy  had 
come  upon  her  at  that  period  of  her  young 
girlhood  when  the  gay  world  gleamed  upon 
her  exalted  fancy  like  the  processional  inci 
dents  of  her  childish  fairy  tales.  She  had  nev 
er  uttered  any  protest  against  her  fate,  and 
thanked  God  daily  for  the  small  income  which 
was  sufficient  for  their  quiet  life ;  but  there 
were  times  when  the  spirit  of  unrest  and  dis 
content  made  a  fair  fight  for  possession  of 
her  soul.  It  was  pathetic  to  see  upon  her  face 
the  traces  of  beauty  dimmed  by  the  struggle. 
The  sorrowful  droop  of  eyes  and  mouth  carved 
other  lines  than  pleasant  ones.  When  not  en 
gaged  in  other  duties,  her  hours  were  usually 
spent  in  her  low  sewing -chair,  gazing  out 
through  the  mouldy  archways  of  the  side  gal- 


1 8  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

lery,  which  opened  on  the  garden,  while  her 
fingers  were  busy  with  a  piece  of  tatting  as 
unending  as  the  visionary  schemes  and  hopes 
which  momentarily  offered  themselves  to  her 
fancy.  While  the  shuttle  flew  in  and  out  of 
her  work,  it  occasionally  paused  to  give  vin 
dictive  stabs  in  the  air  as  if  battling  with  un 
seen  foes,  and  again  it  fell  helpless  in  the 
nervous  hand  that  guided  it,  seemingly  borne 
down  by  the  weight  of  hidden  forces. 

The  scene  upon  which  Miss  Isabel  daily 
gazed  was  certainly  forlorn  enough  to  inspire 
melancholy.  The  garden  had  once  been  laid 
out  in  the  circles,  diamonds,  stars,  and  hearts 
which  had  pleased  the  taste  of  a  past  genera 
tion.  It  was  now  overgrown  with  weeds  ;  the 
borders  were  broken  and  almost  obliterated. 
General  neglect  was  noticeable,  except  along 
certain  walks  which  old  Celine,  after  the  fash 
ion  of  her  early  days,  kept  fresh  and  sweet  by 
a  daily  coat  of  pounded  brick.  A  fig-tree 
which  might  have  been  as  old  as  Celine  her 
self  ornamented  one  of  the  circles  near  the 
house.  Under  its  shade,  when  her  daily  tasks 
were  done,  the  old  negress  would  bring  her 
small  kitchen-stool,  and  humbly  seat  herself. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  1 9 

Through  all  phases  of  fortune,  and  the  won 
derful  changes  which  had  taken  place  in  her 
own  condition,  Celine  had  clung  to  the  family 
whose  slave  she  had  been.  Her  age  was  a 
mystery.  Time  seemed  to  make  no  impres 
sion  on  her.  Belonging  to  that  superior  class 
of  her  race  one  seldom  sees,  uniting  the  higher 
moral  qualities  with  a  regularity  of  feature  as 
pronounced  as  the  Caucasian,  her  face  was 
set  and  immobile  as  a  bronze  cast. 

With  folded  arms,  humming  all  the  while 
some  melancholy  air,  too  low  to  disturb  her 
mistress's  thoughts,  she  would  sit  and  watch 
with  faithful  eyes  the  varying  expression  of 
Miss  Isabel's  face,  growing  bolder  in  her  song 
as  the  face  she  studied  lighted  up  under  the  in 
spiration  of  some  pleasant  emotion,  and  sinking 
away  in  sudden  cadence  as  the  light  died  out 
of  it.  She  would  as  soon  have  thought  of  go 
ing  with  unturbaned  head  as  of  speaking  with 
out  permission ;  and  as  self-communion  had 
made  Miss  Isabel  a  silent  woman,  the  monot 
ony  of  Celine's  crone  was  seldom  disturbed. 

There  was  another  member  of  the  family  of 
whom  Major  Morant  often  spoke  with  pardon 
able  pride  as  "  my  good  son  John ;"  but  he 


20  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

was  making  the  most  of  life  upon  a  moderate 
salary  earned  in  one  of  the  great  cotton  of 
fices,  and  lived  up-town  in  that  busy  section 
from  which  the  old  district  seemed  to  be  sep 
arated  as  by  an  invisible  barrier.  Young  and 
full  of  ambition,  there  were  not  many  attrac 
tions  for  him  in  the  old  house,  and  though  an 
affectionate  son  and  brother,  he  made  few  vis 
its  to  it. 

Once  a  week  there  usually  came  a  change 
in  the  drowsy  routine  of  the  household.  On 
Sunday  evenings,  at  precisely  half-past  seven 
o'clock,  one  listening  intently  might  have 
heard  a  peculiar  sound  upon  the  banquet,  like 
the  impact  of  a  metallic  substance,  and  at  irreg 
ular  intervals  a  double  echo  of  lighter  sounds. 

"  Ah !"  the  old  major  would  exclaim,  with 
great  satisfaction,  as  at  a  certain  point  the  in 
telligible  meaning  of  these  sounds  was  con- 

o  o 

veyed  to  his  pleased  attention,  "  our  friends 
are  coming,  my  daughter.  That  is  Burton's 
cane,  and  I  would  know  Byrne's  step  in  a 
thousand.  Do  you  not  hear  them  ?" 

"  Yes,  papa ;"  and  at  a  sign  from  Miss  Isa 
bel,  old  Celine  would  glide  away  and  present 
ly  usher  in  two  old  gentlemen. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  21 


CHAPTER  II. 

OLD  age  clings  with  tenacity  to  certain  as 
sociations,  and  be  the  actuating  motive  no 
profounder  than  habit,  it  is  always  suggestive 
of  a  divine  constancy  in  human  nature  which 
affects  one  agreeably,  and  makes  it  a  pleasant 
thing  to  see  good-fellowship  kept  in  constant 
repair.  Concerning  the  old  men  who  met 
weekly  at  the  major's  house,  it  may  be  said 
that  their  friendship  had  extended  over  the 
greater  period  of  their  lives,  and  the  very 
manner  of  their  greeting  carried  conviction 
of  its  strength. 

With  what  genial  hospitality  did  the  major 
always  receive  them!  There  was  the  grace 
of  the  old-time  princely  planter  in  the  wave 
of  his  hand  towards  the  chairs  appropriated 
to  them.  The  gentleman  who  usually  fell 
into  his,  with  his  legs  astride  the  seat,  and  his 
arms  kimbo  on  the  back,  was  Mr.  Burton,  a 
very  small  man,  who  took  all  the  liberties  ac 
corded  to  small  people. 


22  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

His  thick  neck  almost  lost  in  his  round 
shoulders,  his  loud  voice  and  uncultured  ac 
cent,  were  no  less  remarkable  than  his  short 
stature,  and  suggested  an  origin  inferior  to 
that  of  the  courtly  major.  But  such  small 
defects  had  been  compensated  by  an  ample 
fortune.  With  wealth  as  a  standard  of  re 
spectability,  his  successful  career  as  a  great 
cotton  factor  had  placed  him  on  secure  social 
footing,  A  grand  mansion  up-town  challenged 
the  admiration  of  every  one,  and  settled  the 
standing  of  a  host  of  children  and  grandchil 
dren.  His  face  was  full  of  good-humor,  while 
at  the  broadest,  most  prominent  part  of  it  a 
pair  of  restless  brown  eyes,  set  under  heavy 
shaggy  eyebrows,  disclosed  the  spirit  of  the 
merchant,  keen  to  divine  the  motives  of  oth 
ers  while  guarding  against  a  betrayal  of  his 
own.  The  inclination  of  his  mouth  to  open 
at  one  corner  and  show  a  semicircular  short 
ening  of  the  teeth  was  the  result,  probably,  of 
the  cigar  on  which  he  constantly  chewed  as  he 
smoked.  In  the  absence  of  the  cigar,  a  con 
vulsive  movement  of  the  lip  kept  up  the  imag 
inary  work,  and  brought  down  one  of  his  eye 
lids  every  few  moments  in  a  waggish  wink. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  23 

This  movement  was  often  a  source  of  an 
noyance  to  Mr.  Byrne,  an  irascible  Irishman, 
who  was  something  of  a  philosopher,  and  in 
dulged  a  propensity  to  lengthy  discussion 
whenever  his  friends  gave  him  a  chance. 
Conversation  sometimes  came  to  a  pause  in 
the  midst  of  serious  subjects  to  enable  Mr. 
Burton  to  explain.  Happily  Mr.  Byrne  could 
be  readily  appeased,  and  harmony  was  never 
long  disturbed. 

He  was  a  bachelor,  and  with  greater  wealth 
he  had  probably  more  namesakes  than  Mr. 
Burton  with  all  his  descendants.  There  were 
some  subjects  on  which  he  was  particularly 
secretive.  The  mystery  of  his  early  environ 
ment  he  buried  in  his  own  breast,  and  with  it 
all  reckoning  of  his  age. 

Miss  Isabel  always  took  good  care  to  retire 
after  exchanging  greetings  with  the  gentle 
men,  much  to  Mr.  Byrne's  satisfaction;  not 
that  he  was  averse  to  Miss  Isabel,  but  he 
had  long  since  ceased  to  feel  interested  in 
any  woman,  and  found  one  simply  in  the 
way. 

The  very  tide  which  had  swept  away  the 
major's  fortune  had  borne  his  commercial 


24  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

friends  on  to  greater  prosperity ;  but  through 
all  circumstances  their  pleasant  relations  had 
been  uninterrupted.  How  they  enjoyed  their 
weekly  meetings !  To  younger  men  were 
left  the  stories  of  lost  campaigns,  the  anxious 
scanning  of  the  political  sky  upon  which 
there  was  just  beginning  to  dawn  a  single 
gleam  of  light,  the  forecasting  a  future  issu 
ing  from  the  overthrow  of  sacred  doctrines 
and  cherished  traditions ;  but  these  old  men 
talked  of  their  youth.  There  was  no  story 
or  racy  gossip  of  its  by-gones  which  failed  to 
receive  its  due  share  of  attention,  each  repe 
tition  enhancing  the  value  of  the  story  and 
adding  flavor  to  the  gossip. 

Many  of  the  major's  relatives  had  owned 
large  sugar  estates  contiguous  to  the  city,  but 
his  interests  had  been  centred  in  a  fine  cotton 
plantation  in  one  of  the  more  northern  par 
ishes  of  the  State. 

He  delighted  in  recurring  to  the  days  when 
he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  taking  parties  of 
his  friends  up  to  the  place,  and  entertaining 
them  there  in  the  old  free-hearted,  hospitable 
way  of  the  times. 

At  mention  of  it,  an  enthusiastic  interest 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  2$ 

always  manifested  itself  on  the  part  of  those 
who  had  shared  its  pleasures. 

One  evening,  after  an  animated  discussion 
of  its  former  attractions,  Mr.  Burton  asked  the 
major  if  he  still  owned  the  old  plantation. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered,  "  it  is  still  mine,  but  it 
is  utterly  valueless.  I  suppose  I  could  not  rid 
myself  of  it,  if  I  wanted  to  give  it  away.  Of 
course  I  am  too  poor  to  hold  on  to  the  place 
for  the  sentiment  of  the  thing,  but  I  have  al 
ways  clung,  and  still  cling,  to  the  hope  that 
fortune  will  smile  on  it  again  some  day.  It 
is  only  a  question  of  time." 

"  I  have  never  been  able  to  realize  the  im 
mense  depreciation  of  that  sort  of  property," 
said  Burton,  "  though  I've  dropped  money 
enough  on  it  to  open  my  eyes." 

"  Ah !"  said  Byrne,  in  a  tone  of  mild  tri 
umph,  "  you  should  have  listened  to  my  warn 
ings.  I  foresaw  the  result  of  a  demoralized — " 

Mr.  Burton's  eyelid  came  down  in  a  way 
that  caused  Mr.  Byrne  to  hesitate,  while  the 
major  continued,  with  a  half-drawn  sigh, 

"  I  have  not  seen  the  place  for  years.  It  has 
been  overflowed  so  often  that  it  is  almost  a 
wilderness  again.  Cotton-woods  have  grown 


26  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

up  in  the  roads  where  we  used  to  drive,  and  I 
suppose  it  would  be  hard  to  recognize  any  of 
the  old  landmarks.  The  place  needs  a  big 
lever  and  young  blood  to  manage  it ;"  and  the 
major  sighed  again,  while  Burton  laughingly 
remarked, 

"  Our  blood  was  young  enough,  Morant, 
when  we  used  to  drive  your  piebald  mus 
tangs.  Do  you  remember  the  way  they 
brought  us  home  from  Billy  Bush's  poker- 
party  ?" 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  chuckled  the  major.  "  It 
must  have  been  the  thought  of  Billy's  last 
bobtail  flush  which  made  us  oblivious  of  the 
risks  we  were  running." 

There  was  the  memory  of  a  conclusion  to 
that  race  which  made  the  major  involuntarily 
rub  his  bald  head. 

"  Poor  Billy!"  said  Byrne,  reflectively, "what 
a  splendid  fellow  he  was  ! — to  have  wasted  his 
life  as  he  did !" 

"  Wasted  it !"  echoed  the  major,  in  surprise. 
"  Why,  if  anybody  ever  got  out  of  life  all  that 
it  is  worth,  I  think  he  did." 

"Yes,"  said  Byrne,  "probably  every  thing  but 
an  easy  conscience." 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  2/ 

"  Well,"  said  the  major,  with  a  shrug,  "  ev 
ery  one  has  his  own  interpretation  of  an  easy 
conscience.  I  am  not  skilled  in  defining  one, 
and  I  doubt  my  ability  to  mark  out  a  course 
by  which  to  acquire  one  ;  but  though  no  judge 
of  a  man's  conscience,  I  am  a  judge  of  his 
ability  to  attain  the  best  of  everything  that 
the  world  proclaims  worth  a  struggle." 

"  You  must  acknowledge,"  said  Byrne,  "that 
the  limit  of  Billy's  struggles  was  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure." 

"  What  man  could  have  resisted  the  temp 
tations  he  had  ?"  responded  the  major.  "  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  a  bachelor — " 

"  You  ought  to  recognize  the  favorableness 
of  that  condition,"  interjected  Burton,  with  a 
merry  twinkle  of  the  eye  and  a  glance  at 
Byrne. 

"  And,"  continued  the  major,  "  though  he 
was  an  old  man  when  we  first  knew  him,  his 
physique  was  so  superb  that  he  never  broke 
down  under  any  amount  of  dissipation.  You 
both  know  how  well  he  talked.  I  have  heard 
many  say  that  he  had  the  English  classics  at 
his  tongue's  end.  Then  he  was  master  of 
more  slaves  than  any  man  in  the  country,  and 


28  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

was  by  long  odds  the  best  poker-player  I  ever 
knew.  A  record  of  incentives  to  his  own  way 
hard  to  beat  if  a  man  needed  excuses  ;  eh,  Bur 
ton  ?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Burton;  "and  I  think  you 
have  not  exaggerated  a  single  item.  What  a 
giant  he  was!  The  finest -looking  fellow  I 
ever  saw !  He  towered  so  high  above  most 
men  that  he  dwarfed  them.  He  must  have 
been  six  feet  six,  and  I  think  his  heart  was  as 
big  as  his  body." 

"  I  grant  all  you  say,"  said  Byrne.  "  That  he 
was  rich,  cultivated,  generous  to  a  fault,  and 
wielded  unbounded  influence  over  those  who 
gathered  around  him,  there  is  no  disputing; 
yet  he  made  no  use  of  all  his  great  gifts,  ex 
cept  to  ruin  the  weaker  men  who  looked  up 
to  him  as  a  sort  of  demigod  whose  example  it 
was  glorious  to  follow.  He  had  many  oppor 
tunities,  and  never  hesitated  to  take  advantage 
of  them  to  gratify  all  his  sensuous  nature, 
holding  himself  responsible  to  neither  God 
nor  man." 

"Oh!"  said  the  major,  suddenly,  "you  are 
thinking  of  that  old  scandal.  I  never  believed 
a  word  of  that.  It  could  not  have  been  true." 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  29 

"  I  always  believed  it,"  responded  Byrne ; 
"  but  as  his  friends  condoned  even  that  of 
fence,  I  never  discussed  the  affair  with  them." 

Burton  ceased  for  an  instant  his  intermina 
ble  champ  upon  his  cigar,  and  uttered  an  ex 
clamation  of  surprise. 

"  What !  speaking  of  Bush  as  if  he  had 
done  a  disgraceful  thing !  Why,  I  thought  he 
was  the  soul  of  honor.  What  was  it  ?" 

"  Did  you  never  hear  that  story  ?" 

The  major  drew  his  chair  nearer  and  low 
ered  his  voice.  Though  the  man  of  whom 
they  spoke  had  been  in  his  grave  for  years, 
men  still  talked  under  their  breath  of  his  fail 
ings. 

"  They  said  " — the  major  paused  in  the  very 
beginning  of  the  story,  as  if  he  dreaded  to  sul 
ly  the  name  of  his  dead  friend  by  its  ruthless 
recital — "  that  he  had  been  guilty  of  an  act 
which  ought  to  have  branded  him  with  in 
famy.  His  mother  had  married  again  after  his 
father's  death,  and  was  a  widow  once  more, 
living  in  an  adjoining  State  upon  a  handsome 
plantation  left  her  by  her  second  husband. 
She  was  a  sweet,  simple-minded  woman,  who 
believed  in  and  adored  her  son.  He  sent  to 


30  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

her,  for  motherly  care  and  affection,  a  little 
child,  urging  its  adoption  by  her  under  his 
step-father's  name.  The  explanation  he  of 
fered  was,  that  he  had  been  privately  married 
to  the  child's  mother,  who  had  died  at  its 
birth,  and,"  continued  the  major,  sinking  his 
voice  still  lower — "  they  said  it  was  false  ;  that 
the  child's  mother  could  not  have  been  his 
wife,  for  she  was — his  slave." 

Burton  drew  a  deep  breath,  while  the  major 
looked  at  him  as  if  deprecating  any  expres 
sion  of  opinion,  and  added,  hurriedly, 

"  There  was  nothing  really  known  of  the 
matter.  It  was  all  rumor,  and  because  he  died 
one  night  in  his  bed,  as  we  know  he  would 
have  best  liked  to  have  died,  quickly,  silently, 
with  no  man's  eye  to  witness  the  death  strug 
gle,  they  said  it  was — suicide." 

A  profound  silence  fell  upon  them.  Well 
might  they  think  upon  it,  for  what  can  equal 
in  audacity  the  suicide  of  a  blase?  He  ex 
hausts  at  a  few  draughts  the  precious  wine 
of  life,  and  then  throws  the  cup  into  the  face 
of  the  Giver.  Burton  seemed  stunned,  while 
Byrne  caressed  his  smooth-shaven  and  wrin 
kled  cheek  with  nervous  hands.  At  length  he 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  31 

broke  out  with  angry  emphasis  as  the  first 
point  of  the  story  recurred  to  him. 

"  It  was  shameful !  the  truth  ought  to  have 
been  reached  in  some  way." 

"  Well,"  said  the  major,  "  nobody  cared  to 
prove  the  story.  Billy  was  an  idol  not  to  be 
easily  broken.  If  the  facts  had  been  estab 
lished,  half  his  friends  would  have  closed  their 
eyes  to  them." 

"  I  do  not  know  what  I  would  have  thought 
of  it  forty  years  ago,"  said  Burton.  "  Proba 
bly  I  would  have  been  as  indignant  as  Byrne ; 
but  I  have  had  a  good  many  cherished  no 
tions  knocked  out  of  me.  In  the  light  of  the 
present,  when  the  amelioration  of  every  man's 
condition  is  the  only  doctrine  taught,  I  might 
be  tempted  to  call  his  action  chivalrous." 

"  Chivalrous  !"  repeated  Byrne,  springing 
bolt  upright ;  but  catching  a  glimpse  of  Bur 
ton's  mocking  eye,  he  added,  "  You  cannot 
mean  it ;  and  it  is  idle  for  you  to  try  to  con 
vince  us  that  you  have  adopted  theories  which 
would  advance  an  individual  at  the  expense 
of  a  whole  race.  If  the  consequences  of  Billy 
Bush's  act  were  to  have  affected  only  himself 
and  the  child,  there  might  have  been  some  ex- 


32  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

cuse  for  his  deception  ;  but  there  was  the  pos 
sible  future  to  some  unsuspecting  family  in 
marriage.  Think  of  the  never-ending  mis 
fortune  of  such  an  alliance  !  Ah  !"  continued 
Byrne,  in  suppressed  excitement,  "  I  thank 
God  I  have  no  descendants  to  run  any  such 
risks." 

Major  Morant  looked  grave,  but  Burton 
laughingly  remarked, 

"  You  take  the  matter  too  seriously,  and 
think  too  much  of  genealogy.  In  this  glori 
ous  country  it  does  not  matter  much  where  a 
family  begins,  so  it  ends  well.  Given  wealth 
and  beauty,  and  who  will  care  to  trace  de 
scent  ?" 

The  major  turned  sharply  upon  Burton,  as 
if  to  controvert  his  assertion,  but  the  Irish 
man  was  readier  than  he.  For  the  first  time 
in  all  their  acquaintance  he  defined  himself 
Celtic  to  the  core,  and  aglow  with  undying- 
prejudices. 

"  I  pity  the  future  of  what  you  call  this  glo 
rious  country  if  that  be  true.  My  immortal 
countryman  well  says,  '  Those  will  not  look 
forward  to  their  posterity  who  never  look 
backward  to  their  ancestors.'  Fraud  and  force 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  33 

may  seem  to  effect  much  in  making  all  men 
free  and  equal,  but  there  is  no  such  thing  in 
natural  law.  There  will  be  men  who  will  re 
main  true  to  the  instincts  planted  in  their 
hearts  by  ages  of  human  endeavor.  The  light 
which  illumines  their  souls  comes  straight 
and  true  from  the  divine  type  towards  which 
they  are  progressing.  They  will  never  dim 
its  brightness  by  a  return  through  lower  chan 
nels  to  the  darkness  of  generations  behind 
them  in  human  development.  I  do  not  think 
I  take  this  matter  too  seriously.  In  spite  of 
wealth  and  culture,  Nature  will  assert  herself. 
Hereditary  descent  stamps  the  man,  and  one 
can  never  be  sure  when  race  characteristics 
will  entirely  disappear.  They  may  crop  out 
like  some  hideous  deformity  in  any  genera 
tion.  Let  me  read  you  an  extract  which  I 
clipped  a  few  days  ago  from  a  scientific  jour 
nal  about  a  curious  physiological  law — " 

"  Come,  Byrne,"  interposed  Burton,  "  if  you 
are  going  into  that  sort  of  thing,  I'm  off. 
Morant  will  listen,  but  physiology  isn't  my 
forte." 

"  Stay,"  said  the  major,  as  he  saw  a  cloud 
gather  upon  Byrne's  face,  "don't  go  just  yet, 


34  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

and  we  will  see  if  we  can  find  something  more 
to  your  taste."  He  rose  and  led  the  way  to 
the  dining-room.  From  the  little  old-fash 
ioned  sideboard  they  took  the  best  the  major 
could  offer  them,  and  touched  their  glasses 
amicably  together  in  the  old-time  way. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  35 


CHAPTER  III. 

JOHN  MORANT'S  entrance  into  a  cotton 
merchant's  counting-room  marked  a  depart 
ure  from  all  the  cherished  traditions  of  his 
family,  whose  sons  had  been  gentlemen  of 
leisure  for  so  many  generations,  that  one 
might  well  pardon  them  for  believing  it  to 
have  been  a  condition  fixed  from  the  begin 
ning;  but  to  the  young  man  whose  income 
was  reduced  to  fractional  currency,  a  desk  in 
a  great  factor's  office  was  no  small  thing,  and 
infinitely  better  than  indigent  idleness. 

If  circumstances  had  been  favorable,  his 
tastes  would  probably  have  led  him  to  pursue 
a  literary  or  scientific  career ;  but  he  straight 
ened  himself  bravely  in  the  pathway  which 
fate  had  determined  for  him,  and  enjoyed  its 
steady  remunerative  labor  and  illimitable  pos 
sibilities.  The  value  of  wealth  impressed  it 
self  more  and  more  upon  him  as  he  struggled 
for  it,  and  those  who  knew  him  well  predict 
ed  for  him  a  successful  future.  He  entered 


36  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

upon  the  new  business  with  the  ardor  of  one 
undaunted  by  failure,  mastered  quickly  its  de 
tails,  and  shrank  from  no  amount  of  work  im 
posed  by  it.  The  period  was  one  of  great 
commercial  activity ;  the  date  of  a  reaction 
from  long  repressed  trade,  and  the  renewal  of 
confidence  in  the  sovereignty  of  the  great 
staple  upon  which  it  was  based.  There  was 
a  wide-spread  feeling  that  the  golden  day  of 
prosperity  which  seemed  about  to  dawn,  was 
a  compensation  for  the  dark  hours  which  had 
preceded  it.  A  kind  of  delirious  joy  filled 
the  hearts  of  those  who  had  felt  nothing  but 
despair,  but  who  .suddenly  saw  the  cloud  lift 
ed,  and  the  light  shining  once  more  upon  field 
and  hearth-stone.  It  was  true  that  new  men 
and  new  methods  were  coming  to  the  front, 
but  the  golden  hour  was  not  to  be  dimmed 
by  retrospective  memories.  Men  forgot  their 
losses  in  the  evanescent  brilliancy  of  their 
new  hopes. 

There  had  passed  away  from  the  commer 
cial  world  many  prominent  figures ;  first  of 
all,  the  pleasant  old.  merchant  whose  name  re 
mains  to  this  day  in  the  whole  Mississippi  val 
ley  a  by-word  of  wonderful  success.  Gossip 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  37 

declared  that  he  secured  the  lion's  share  of 
each  year's  shipment  through  the  influence 
of  church  fellowship,  and  by  the  assiduous 
cultivation  of  Brother  So-and-so's  pious  sym 
pathy,  amassed  the  fortune  which  enabled  his 
only  son  to  startle  all  Paris  by  his  extrava 
gances.  Alas!  that  church -fellowship  and 
Brother  So-and-so's  sympathy  should  be  also 
a  thing  of  the  past.  Another  merchant  whose 
famous  bet  on  the  extent  of  a  cotton  crop  was 
the  first  spark  of  that  speculative  mania  which 
was  afterwards  to  devour  men,  and  others  who 
had  grown  rich  on  the  increasing  values  of 
mortgaged  lands  and  human  chattels,  had 
gone  down  in  the  mighty  struggle  which 
swept  away  their  securities. 

Fortune's  wheel  had  made  a  confusing 
turn. 

Away  from  Carondelet  Street  and  its  envi 
rons,  which  had  hitherto  claimed  a  monopoly 
of  the  cotton  interests,  in  the  midst  of  the  less 
aristocratic  region  of  pork,  flour,  and  potatoes 
on  Poydras  Street,  there  had  arisen  a  firm 
which  was  destined  to  play  an  important  part 
in  assisting  to  revive  the  languishing  estates 
of  impoverished  planters. 


38  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

To  have  seen  the  worn  stair-way  leading  to 
a  second  story  office  in  one  of  the  dingiest 
buildings  on  the  street,  one  would  have  im 
mediately  concluded  that  it  had  reached  its 
present  state  through  the  attrition  of  feet 
bearing  heavier  burdens  than  the  fleecy  sam 
ples  laid  upon  the  tables  in  the  rooms  above. 
There  might  have  been  an  appreciable  effect 
from  the  burden  of  anxious  hearts  going  up 
that  way  to  a  first  interview  with  the  senior 
partner  of  Green,  Waters  &  Co.,  but  certainly 
none  when  they  descended  with  the  privilege 
of  drawing  upon  the  benevolent  old  gentle 
man  for  blank  thousands, 

A  sad  thing  that  generous  confidence 
should  have  had  so  poor  a  return  !  Of  all 
the  thousands  of  dollars  sent  out  that  way, 
there  came  back  no  tidings  save  in  the  form 
of  overdrawn  accounts  and  promises -to-pay, 
vitiated  by  the  all-powerful  bankrupt  law. 

Behind  the  wooden  railing  enclosing  the 
busy  workers  at  correspondence,  account  of 
sales,  and  ledger,  John  Morant  sat  at  his  desk 
and  witnessed  the  close  of  many  an  interview, 
sometimes  humorous,  sometimes  indignant, 
and  alas !  sometimes  deeply  pathetic. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  39 

The  number  of  applications  for  means  to 
plant  the  magnificent  lands  still  left  to  once 
princely  planters  was  incredible.  There  came 
the  owners  of  Villa  Vistas,  Linwoods,  Sunny- 
sides,  and  many  other  places  with  beautiful 
and  fanciful  names,  each  with  demands  com 
mensurate  to  the  unlimited  credit  hitherto  ac 
corded  them.  There  were  times  when  the  sen 
ior  partner  hesitated  and  looked  thoughtful. 

"  Can  you  not  make  a  lower  estimate  of  ex 
penses  for  Villa  Vista?  Is  it  not  possible  to 
do  with  less  ?" 

"  Impossible  !  One  must  live,  you  know, 
while  one  works." 

"  You  will  manage  the  place  yourself,  of 
course  ?" 

"Why  should  I?  There  is  no  necessity 
for  it.  I  have  the  best  overseer  in  the  world, 
and  Villa  Vista  will  give  us  a  famous  crop." 

Borne  down  by  such  arguments  as  these, 
the  good  old  man  paid  out  exorbitant  sums 
without  a  murmur.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  cot 
ton  was  worth  fifty  cents  a  pound,  and  for  the 
little  matter  of  spending^money  before  it  was 
made,  that  was  the  old  way  which  must  be 
endured.  Times  and  men  might  change,  but 


4O  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

the  cotton-planter  remained  fixed,  "  In  statu 
quo  ante  bellum" 

Each  day  added  to  the  number  of  importu 
nate  customers.  There  came  men  with  large 
ideas,  men  with  small  ones;  conservative  men, 
such  as  had  served  under  others,  and  now 
counting  the  cost  took  the  master's  place 
quietly  and  resolutely;  reckless  men  fresh 
from  sacrifices  so  grand,  yet  so  futile,  that 
nothing  could  now  content  them  save  an  op 
portunity  of  showing  how  far  they  might 
swing  in  the  opposite  direction ;  widows  old 
and  young,  shrewd,  calculating  ones  and  tim 
id  ones;  and  strangest  of  all  sights  in  that  busy 
office,  a  young  girl,  the  sole  representative  of 
an  invalid  mother,  who  applied  for  means  to 
begin  work  on  the  land  which  was  her  only 
resource. 

John  remembered  long  her  attitude  and 
expression  as  she  stood  gazing  into  the  old 
man's  face,  which  in  her  case  emphasized  an 
adverse  decision.  By  her  side  was  a  lawyer 
who  had  failed  to  plead  her  cause  successfully 
in  the  face  of  the  supreme  fact  that  even  then 
the  plantation  offered  was  trembling  at  every 
dash  of  the  river  against  its  banks. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  41 

"  We  have  reached  the  limit  of  our  ability 
to  make  advances  even  on  the  best  security." 

The  young  girl  turned  with  a  gesture  of 
despair.  The  tears  which  modest  timidity 
had  held  upon  the  verge  of  her  heavily  fringed 
eyelids  overflowed,  and  one  big,  bright  drop 
flashed  upon  her  round  cheek  just  where  the 
senior  partner's  eye  could  catch  its  reflec 
tion. 

The  never -failing  miracle  was  wrought. 
The  innermost  spring  of  the  old  man's  heart 
was  touched.  It  gushed  forth  in  sympathetic 
assurance.  "  Well,  well,  my  dear,  we  will  try 
our  best,  but  your  mother  must  manage  eco 
nomically." 

Tears  and  kindly  sympathy  were  infinitely 
superior  to  a  lawyer's  pleadings,  but  for  all 
that,  there  was  at  the  end  of  the  season  a  de 
ficit — not  upon  the  lawyer's  books. 

It  was  a  novel  experience  for  John  Morant 
to  watch  with  critical  eyes  from  a  new  stand 
point  the  class  with  which  his  interests  had 
always  been  identified,  and  the  knowledge 
gained  was  of  value  all  his  life  afterwards. 

As  a  disinterested  observer,  he  found  the 
demands  made  so  lightly,  so  ignorantly,  so 


42  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

trustfully,  unconscious  of  risk  in  venturing 
upon  untried  schemes,  scarcely  less  marvel 
lous  than  the  fact  of  one  man  paying  out 
daily  thousands  of  hard-earned  dollars  upon 
promises -to -pay  and  securities  as  worthless 
as  the  buoyant  boasts  of  the  borrowers. 

All  the  habits  of  indolence  which  were  his 
heritage  seemed  to  fill  him  with  disgust  and 
to  fall  away  from  him  as  he  plodded  on  at 
his  systematic  work ;  and  as  the  months  went 
by,  closing  the  busy  season,  the  short,  quick 
season  into  which  was  condensed  the  almost 
herculean  labor  of  receiving  and  disposing  of 
a  mighty  agricultural  product,  an  instinct  of 
shame  seized  upon  him  for  the  people,  his 
people,  who  should  have  been  the  regenera 
tors  of  a  desolated  land,  but  whose  lying, 
boastful,  extravagant  accounts  were  to  be  the 
ruin  of  the  men  who  trusted  and  aided  them. 
The  sense  of  moral  obligation  quickened  and 
gre^v  with  him  into  vigorous  life.  Come  what 
might  to  him,  there  would  be  no  danger  that 
a  pledge  of  his  would  ever  be  dishonored. 

When  relieved  from  the  daily  routine  of 
business,  John  plunged  with  enthusiasm  into 
the  social  gayeties  of  a  city  which  had  always 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  43 

sustained  a  reputation  for  superiority  in  such 
matters. 

He  felt  his  poverty  keenly  at  times,  the 
more  so  because  his  inherent  generosity  made 
him  often  prodigal  of  his  small  means — a  fact 
which  did  not  lessen  his  reputation  as  a  mar 
vellously  good  fellow,  whatever  other  results 
it  worked. 

With  a  frank  and  pleasant  face,  and  the 
confidence  of  brave  and  honorable  descent,  he 
carried  the  defences  of  society  boldly.  At 
his  club,  at  the  opera,  as  in  the  evening 
dances,  John  Morant  was  no  more  the  daily 
worker,  but  a  young  prince  minus  a  princi 
pality.  His  personal  appearance  enhanced 
his  charm  of  manner.  The  majority  of  Cre 
oles  being  small  of  stature,  his  tall,  well-knit 
figure  was  more  than  ordinarily  striking. 
There  was  a  well-bred  look  in  his  slightly 
Roman  nose,  and  his  handsome  blue  eyes 
looked  out  from  under  a  brow  shaded  by  jet- 
black  hair,  one  lock  of  which,  either  by  acci 
dent  or  intent,  perhaps  the  result  of  one  of 
the  small  decorative  instincts  which  men  have 
not  entirely  lost,  was  twisted  into  a  veritable 
curl  just  over  the  left  eyebrow.  This  curl 


44  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

had  been  a  source  of  annoyance  to  some  of 
his  friends,  and  of  ridicule  to  others,  but  cer 
tainly  it  did  not  detract  from  a  face  which  was 
manly  enough  to  look  well  under  it. 

"  His  affectation  in  the  matter  of  that  curl," 
jestingly  remarked  Dr.  Edward  Dickson,  his 
special  friend  and  keenest  critic,  "  is  not  with 
out  advantage.  No  woman  ever  failed  to 
smile  upon  that  return  to  the  classic  ideal, 
the  glorious  head  of  the  race  when  it  was 
young.  A  discussion  of  his  popularity  would 
quickly  determine  that  fact." 

"  Shave  his  head  as  close  as  a  Mongolian's," 
said  another,  "and  he  will  receive  the  same 
smiles.  He  belongs  to  a  type  which  women  rec 
ognize  as  the  best,  without  any  clearer  index 
than  a  certain  sympathy  in  that  direction." 

His  friends  were  right  respecting  the  cur 
rent  of  women's  sympathy.  It  tended  stead 
ily  in  John  Morant's  favor.  And  he  had  been 
conscious  of  it,  and  enjoyed  it  as  he  did  all 
the  social  pleasures  he  seemed  eminently  fit 
ted  to  enjoy ;  but  of  late  there  had  come  to 
him  a  certain  knowledge  that  it  was  one  wom 
an's  smile  alone  which  could  fill  him  with 
vague  unrest 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  45 

He  had  not  thought  three  months  ago  to 
have  been  moved  by  any  sentiment  outside 
his  great  purpose  to  succeed  in  the  daily 
work  he  had  chosen.  Of  the  first  inconsider 
able  touch  in  shaping  his  fancy  he  had  been 
less  conscious  than  of  the  gxtra  beat  of  his 
pulse  when  he  remembered  it. 

It  chanced  that  in  the  early  days  of  January 
he  attended  Madam  Noye's  grand  ball,  to 
which  so  many  invitations  were  sent  out 
that  disappointed  ones  called  it  a  "  Directory 
party." 

This  ball  had  been  the  culmination  of 
Madam  Noye's  triumphant  progress  towards 
the  position  of  leader  in  a  circle  to  which  she 
had  very  recently  gained  access.  It  was  an 
other  of  the  dizzy  turns  of  fortune's  wheel 
which  had  brought  her  out  of  a  second  story 
back  room  in  a  Camp  Street  boarding-house 
to  the  occupancy  of  one  of  the  finest  estab 
lishments  in  the  city,  and  she  made  a  bold 
effort  to  secure  recognition. 

With  the  thirst  of  long  abstinence  created 
by  the  war,  society  was  in  a  condition  to 
drink  deeply  of  pleasure  and  to  be  but  slight 
ly  critical  of  those  who  presented  it.  Exclu- 


46  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

sive  sets  condescendingly  met  the  extreme 
limits  of  gentility,  while  the  illuminative  pow 
er  of  the  splendid  drawing-rooms  dazzled  and 
blinded  the  guests  to  everything  but  the  great 
and  particular  glory  of  the  hour,  which  saw  a 
return  to  gayetie$  no  longer  charged  with  a 
mockery  of  sadly  tinged  surroundings. 

John  noted  a  few  particular  friends,  and 
then  made  his  way  to  the  side  of  Miss  Mur 
ray,  the  only  unmarried  one  of  a  group  of 
pretty,  blond  sisters  whose  successive  mar 
riages  had  been  important  events  in  the  so 
cial  world.  She  received  him  in  a  charming 
ly  cordial  and  enthusiastic  manner. 

"  Ah !  is  it  you  ?  I  am  so  glad  you  are 
come.  Isn't  it  a  crush  ?  They  say  you  know 
everything  and  everybody  worth  knowing; 
prove  it  by  telling  me  the  name  of  that  pretty 
debutante.  No,  not  that  one,"  she  exclaimed, 
with  a  slight  spreading  of  her  high -arched 
nostrils,  as  a  young  girl  in  white  went  by  on 
the  arm  of  a  young  gentleman  whose  chief 
recommendation  was  a  steady  limb,  which 
formed  an  excellent  pivot  in  the  new  waltz. 
"  It  is  she  in  that  group  on  the  left,  towards 
whom  all  the  old,  as  well  as  all  the  young 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  47 

men  are  gravitating.  I  fancy  she  makes  a 
distinction  in  favor  of  the  former.  There  !  I 
am  sure  of  it.  What  a  little  humbug !  She 
has  captured  the  general." 

As  the  couple  advanced  nearer  their  point 
of  view,  John  admired  the  willowy  grace  of 
the  slender  female  figure  beside  the  gallant 
officer.  So  marked  was  the  advantage  gained 
by  such  escort  that  one  might  be  tempted  to 
believe  with  the  old-young  lady  who  had  cal 
culated  the  probabilities  of  the  case,  that  skil 
ful  management  had  secured  the  position. 

With  his  grave,  quiet  face,  heavy  gray  mus 
tache,  and  short  stature,  the  general  was  not 
more  distinguished-looking  than  the  average 
cultured  gentleman ;  but  a  sentiment  still 
quick  in  the  hearts  of  that  assemblage  made 
him  the  prominent  figure  of  it,  and  lent  an 
interest  to  any  lady  who  commanded  his  at 
tention.  One  had  need  of  grace  and  beauty 
to  share  jointly  the  admiration  of  eyes  used 
to  being  loyally  centred  upon  one  important 
personage. 

If  John  Morant  had  been  asked  to  name 
the  chiefest  charm  of  the  pretty  stranger,  he 
would  have  responded  at  once,  "  motion." 


48  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

There  was  no  apparent  effort  or  restraint  in 
the  light,  floating  step,  and  the  easy  yielding 
of  the  supple  waist  to  every  movement.  In 
the  free  gait  was  visible  the  perfect  accommo 
dation  of  the  physical  forces.  An  almost  in 
fantine  grace,  the  grace  of  unconscious  youth, 
was  associated  with  the  symmetrically  mould 
ed  figure  of  maturer  development.  The  light 
seemed  to  concentrate  itself  upon  the  lus 
trous  white  of  the  dress  she  wore,  and  shed  a 
radiance  with  each  soft  rustle  of  its  folds, 
while  a  joyous  little  laugh,  uttered  in  a  musi 
cal  undertone,  supplemented  a  quick  glow  of 
interest  upon  a  face  as  merry  and  frank  as 
that  of  a  child,  and  certainly  very  beautiful. 
Her  hair  and  eyes  were  dark  and  lovely. 
Her  complexion  was  cream -and-pink,  rather 
than  lily-and-rose.  Her  mouth  and  teeth 
were  perfect.  The  general  pose  of  the  head 
was  superb.  Her  smile  was  exceedingly  win 
ning,  and  her  general  expression  was  charm 
ing. 

As  she  passed  on  and  disappeared  in  the 
crowd,  Miss  Murray  again  claimed  his  atten 
tion  in  a  voice  oppressively  high  and  shrill. 

"  So  my  curiosity  must  remain  ungratified ! 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  49 

It  is  certainly  disappointing  to  find  you  fall 
ing  short  of  your  reputation.  You  have  had 
a  brilliant  opportunity  and  have  lost  it." 

"  A  damaging  confession,  I  own,"  said  John, 
bowing  with  mock  humility,  "  but  one  I  am 
compelled  to  make.  I  suppose  my  prestige 
is  utterly  gone." 

"  That  depends  on  whether  you  care  to 
sustain  it,"  responded  Miss  Murray,  smiling 
at  him  from  over  the  shoulder  of  a  fat  little 
man  with  a  bald  crown,  who,  privileged  by 
years  of  devotion,  had  taken  the  liberty  of 
silently  placing  his  arm  about  her  waist  as 
an  invitation  to  waltz.  "  I  predict  that  you 
will  hasten  to  retrieve  it,  and  I  leave  you  to 
gravitate  with  all  the  rest  towards  the  new 
centre."  Nodding  archly  she  disappeared, 
with  the  long,  smooth  dip  of  the  last  new 
waltz. 

John  hesitated  a  moment  before  leaving  the 
spot.  He  was  conscious  of  a  slight  sensation 
of  annoyance.  He  had  meditated  a  conclu 
sion  not  unlike  that  suggested  by  Miss  Mur 
ray,  but  her  light  banter  and  significant  nod 
had  invested  the  design  with  a  factitious  im 
portance,  and  made  it  for  the  moment  distaste- 
4 


50  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

ful.  There  might  now  be  limitations  to  his 
passing  fancy. 

To  and  fro  through  the  long  drawing- 
rooms  the  crowd  passed  in  promenade  and 
dance,  while  he  stood  balancing  the  feather 
weight  of  a  social  consideration.  The  music 
swelled  and  then  died  away  in  a  pianissimo, 
almost  lost  in  the  light  laughter  and  murmur 
of  voices. 

A  fragment  of  conversation  floated  towards 
him  from  a  group  on  the  left. 

"  Just  back  from  a  residence  in  England, 
did  you  say  ?  Impossible  !  There  is  nothing 
English  about  her." 

"  Pardon.  It  is  her  papa  quite  op'oseete. 
He  meks  a  nize- looking  Engleeshman,  I 
theenk." 

"  Ah !  there  is  no  disputing  his  type ;  but 
she —  I  am  mystified.  One  might  readily  ac 
count  for  the  Paris  costume ;  but  the  air,  the 
grace  with  which  it  is  worn,  that  belongs  only 
to  a  Frenchwoman,  or  to  one  of  French  stock 
planted  on  kindly  soil." 

"  It  is  one  Creole,  you  mean,  the  las'  one 
you  spik  about.  Thenk  you;  it  is  kin'  fo' 
you  to  spik  like  that.  I  am  Creole  myself. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  51 

But  she  is  not  Creole,  I  can  asshu'  you,  though 
she  is  preetie  and  something  lige." 

John's  interest  quickened. 

In  the  last  speaker  he  recognized  a  charm 
ing  woman,  the  fair  representative  of  a  class 
fast  disappearing  from  social  circles,  a  Creole 
matron  with  an  historic  name,  one  whose  hu 
morous  fancy  and  incisive  speech  were  en 
hanced  by  her  peculiar  accent  and  construc 
tion  of  the  English  delivered  through  that 
most  beautiful  and  effective  medium,  a  soft, 
musical  voice. 

Of  whom  were  they  speaking  ?  Surely  of 
that  young  girl  whose  rare  attractions  had 
moved  others  besides  himself  to  open  admira 
tion.  Who  was  she? 

Chance  favored  him  by  throwing  him  into  a 
group  as  some  one  mentioned  her  name— Miss 
Muir.  At  once  he  remembered  having  heard 
of  her  as  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy  English 
man,  a  widower,  who  had  brought  his  child  to 
visit  relatives  and  friends  of  her  mother  in  the 
South,  and  had  ended  by  taking  up  his  resi 
dence  in  a  city  whose  position  was  favorable 
to  the  great  commercial  interests  which  he 
represented. 


52  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

With  wealth,  brilliant  introductions,  and 
beauty,  a  bright  future  opened  before  the 
young  girl.  The  respect  which  these  advan 
tages  commanded  among  a  pleasure-loving 
people  gave  her  a  distinguished  position.  She 
became  a  favorite.  In  placing  himself  among 
those  who  surrounded  her,  John  entered  a  cir 
cle  disposed  to  concede  her  superiority  in  ev 
erything — an  enviable  recognition  rarely  ob 
tained  by  a  woman  except  she  be  haloed  by 
youth,  beauty,  and  adventitious  circumstance. 
And  as  full-voiced  admiration  is  a  semblance 
of  the  divine  passion  which  evokes  all  that 
is  beautiful  in  human  nature,  it  warmed  her 
heart  and  stimulated  her  to  charming  ways 
which  made  her  more  winning  still. 

The  winter  days  swept  by,  and  their  com 
pleted  effect  became  clear  to  John,  when  he 
acknowledged  to  himself  that  their  most  de 
licious  moments  were  those  spent  by  Bamma 
Muir's  side. 

The  festive  garb  which  the  city  assumed ; 
the  private  entertainments,  crowded  upon  each 
other  in  quick  succession  like  a  series  of  pan 
oramic  pictures,  save  that  the  scenes  were  al 
ways  the  same — the  same  decorations,  the  same 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  53 

glare  of  lights,  the  same  guests ;  the  opera 
nights,  when  a  great  tenor  sang  to  audiences 
who  shouted  with  enthusiasm  over  a  high  C 
in  "  Trovatore ;"  the  carnival,  celebrated  with 
more  than  usual  splendor,  because  of  the  pre 
vious  dark  years  of  the  war,  when  the  fun- 
loving  "  Krewe  "  had  been  forced  to  hide  in 
the  sombre  shadows  that  compassed  the  land 
— all  contributed  to  a  season  of  almost  mad 
exhilaration. 

More  consonant  seemed  its  mood  with  all 
John's  newly  awakened  emotions,  when  in  a 
single  day  its  merriment  was  subdued  to  lent- 
en  tones,  the  quality  of  its  gayety  attuned  to 
the  stillness  of  cathedral  aisles. 

The  crowds  upon  the  street  were  the  same, 
and  yet  not  the  same.  The  moral  expression 
seemed  changed.  With  the  climax  of  their 
boisterous  mirth  had  disappeared  every  trace 
of  cap  and  bells,  and  the  impression  conveyed 
to  an  observer  was  one  of  almost  puritan 
peacefulness. 

Such  is  New  Orleans  after  its  Mardi-gras 
festivities ! 


54  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  breeze  which  comes  and  goes  in  the 
city  of  New  Orleans  with  the  regularity  of 
the  ocean  tide,  and  blows  especially  cool  and 
pleasant  through  the  thoroughfares  running 
from  the  river  front  back  to  the  broad  Lake 
Pontchartrain  in  the  rear,  had  just  swept  with 
one  smart  gust  along  the  streets,  and  then  left 
the  trees  and  shrubs  in  the  pretty  gardens  of 
the  upper  district  motionless. 

It  was  time  for  those  in-doors  to  emerge 
and  catch  its  first  appreciable  return. 

John  Morant  settled  his  hat  upon  his  head 
as  comfortably  as  its  stiff  proportions  would 
allow,  and  grasping  his  fragile  cane  with  a 
degree  of  satisfaction  at  its  finish  and  slender- 
ness,  sallied  forth. 

His  mood  was  one  which  held  an  inveterate 
antagonism  of  companionship,  and  he  rejoiced 
in  the  prospect  of  being  alone  just  so  long  as 
he  chose  to  enjoy  it. 

He  was  restless  under  the  influence  of  pe- 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  55 

culiar  emotions  which  had  swayed  him  for 
weeks  past,  to  the  exclusion  of  interest  in  any 
thing  beyond  certain  absorbing  limitations. 
He  had  reached  that  point  where  the  necessi 
ty  for  sympathy  was  absolute,  and  he  deter 
mined  to  have  a  quiet  talk  with  his  sister  Isa 
bel,  secure,  at  least,  of  unbounded  interest  in 
his  confidences,  if  not  of  unmixed  approbation. 

He  went  his  way  past  the  gay  shops  which 
even  on  this  Sunday  afternoon  were  open  to 
buyers,  who  chattered  and  bargained  over  the 
counters  with  the  enthusiasm  of  small  dealers, 
past  all  evidence  of  active,  busy  life,  into  the 
solemn  stillness  of  the  streets  where  the  old 
houses,  with  a  tendency  to  gravitate  towards 
each  other,  hugged  the  gloom,  and  with  closed 
shutters  blindly  waited  the  coming  night. 
There  was  little  to  attract  him  in  these  sur 
roundings,  and  he  became  more  and  more  ab 
sorbed  in  reflections  which  made  him  oblivi 
ous  of  time  and  place. 

In  this  quiet  atmosphere  he  seemed  to  have 
a  clearer  vision  of  certain  anticipated  relations 
of  life  which  held  out  the  fairest  promises  of 
love  and  prosperity. 

The  shadows  of  the  old  houses  lengthened, 


56  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

but  they  failed  to  cast  upon  him  the  drony 
listlessness  which  enchanted  their  tenants,  or 
to  dim  the  brightness  of  his  mental  pictures. 
From  this  state  of  pleasant  exaltation  he  was 
suddenly  aroused  by  a  low  growl,  which  fell 
upon  his  ear  with  startling  distinctness. 

He  turned  quickly  to  find  himself  facing  a 
small,  low  shop,  whose  air  of  wretchedness  and 
decay  harmonized  with  the  strange  assortment 
of  articles  displayed  in  the  one  dirty  window. 
Occupying  the  place  of  honor  in  the  centre 
of  the  odd  medley,  was  a  small  stuffed  alli 
gator,  with  open  jaws  and  ferocious  show  of 
teeth.  Above  it  perched  a  small  brown  owl, 
guiltless  of  the  usual  wise  and  solemn  expres 
sion  of  its  kind ;  for  a  tuft  of  feathers  on  ei 
ther  side  of  its  head,  like  ears,  gave  it  the  cun 
ning  look  of  a  cat.  Higher  still  was  a  wild 
duck,  the  soft  feathers  of  its  beautiful  head  and 
neck  glowing  with  greenish  lustre.  There 
was  a  huge  bunch  of  dusty  white  coral,  the 
broken  bone  of  a  stingaree,  and  some  sea 
shells.  On  the  facing  of  the  door -way,  in 
almost  illegible  letters,  one  could  trace  part 
of  a  name,  and  below  it  an  announcement  in 
French  that  all  sorts  of  taxidermic  work  could 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  57 

be  done  there.  The  half  sash  door  was  part 
ly  open,  and  glancing  inside,  John  saw  a  small 
wooden  cage  containing  a  fine  young  tiger. 
Struck  by  the  beauty  of  the  animal,  and  the 
oddity  of  its  presence  in  that  quarter,  he 
pushed  open  the  door  and  entered  the  shop. 

A  stifling  odor  greeted  him,  but  enduring 
its  discomforts  he  glanced  around  with  curi 
osity.  The  tiger  and  two  or  three  strange- 
looking  birds  were  the  only  living  occupants 
in  view.  Piles  of  empty  boxes  and  dusty  glass 
cases  obstructed  the  centre  of  the  room,  leav 
ing  only  a  narrow  passage-way  to  a  small  door 
in  the  rear.  On  one  side  was  a  row  of  shelves 
reaching  to  the  ceiling,  with  glass  doors,  be 
hind  which  were  seen,  covered  with  the  dust 
of  years,  a  stuffed  coon  and  grinning  monkey, 
with  a  huge  wax  doll  strung  up  beside  them, 
a  well  preserved  terrier,  and  two  or  three  moth- 
eaten  canaries,  whose  melancholy  aspect  pro 
tested  against  such  immortality.  In  one  cor 
ner  was  piled  a  lot  of  skins  dressed  for  use. 
The  rows  of  shelves  were  repeated  upon  the 
opposite  side  of  the  room,  and  were  filled  with 
boxes,  queer-looking  blocks  of  wood,  mosses, 
leaves,  and  dried  grasses. 


58  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

"  Mo'su'  wan'  som'ting  nize  fo'  stuff  ?  one 
nize  lillj  howl,  heh  ?" 

John  started.  A  little  man  had  come 
through  the  rear  door,  and  stood  gazing  at 
him  with  keen  expectancy. 

His  entrance  was  so  noiseless,  and  his  ap 
pearance  so  peculiar,  that  John  scarcely  heed 
ed  what  he  said.  Barely  over  four  feet  in 
height,  the  man's  broad,  square  shoulders 
might  have  graced  a  giant.  He  had  a  large, 
round,  good  -  humored  face,  a  pair  of  small 
bright  gray  eyes,  and  hair  that  stood  out  from 
his  great  head  like  the  ruffled  feathers  of  one 
of  his  own  strange  birds. 

"  Som'ting  nize  fo'  stuff,  heh  ?"  repeated  the 
little  man. 

"No,"  said  John;  "I  came  in  to  have  a 
good  look  at  that  splendid  young  tiger. 
Where  did  you  get  it  ?" 

"  Ah !  he's  one  nize  tige',  ent  he  ?  One 
fren'  sen'  heem  to  me  when  he  was  lill'  com- 
me  9a,"  measuring  the  wonderfully  small  size 
between  his  outstretched  hands.  "  He  say  he 
good  fo'  stuff;  but  I  loog  at  heem  an'  say, 
Non ;  I  keep  heem  till  he  gro'  mo'  big  an' 
strong.  Mebbe  I  mek  a  meestak'  becos  his 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  59 

happeti'  is  mo1  strong  an'  he.  Tis  terreebl'.  If 
it  was* not  fo'  Marie — "  He  turned  his  head 
on  one  side  and  waved  his  hand  towards  the 
pile  of  skins.  "  But  she  is  my  lill'  wife,  and 
liges  heem.  'Tis  true,  mo'su',  she  liges  heem. 
She  will  show  you  how  he  kin  eat.  Marie, 
Marie  I" 

In  response  to  the  call,  a  little,  sallow- 
faced,  black-eyed  woman  came  in,  trailing  the 
flounces  of  her  long,  loose  wrapper  with  the 
grace  and  abandon  of  a  grand-duchess. 

"  What  fo'  you  call  me,  Emile  ?"  The  little 
woman  smiled  as  she  came  forward.  Evident 
ly  the  best  feeling  existed  between  the  two, 
a  camaraderie  seldom  seen  except  with  that 
race  and  class  which  makes  the  woman  a 
working  partner,  equally  responsible  in  every 
business  transaction,  sharer  of  the  man's  cares, 
and  by  force  of  habit,  if  not  of  sympathy,  par 
ticipator  in  his  pleasures. 

"  Come,  Marie,  mo'su'  is  pleas'  wi'  the  tige'. 
He  must  see  how  he  kin  eat." 

"  Ah !  oui,"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  delight 
ed  intonation,  as  if  feeding  the  tiger  was  an 
unspeakable  pleasure.  She  disappeared  for 
an  instant,  and  returned  with  a  large  piece  of 


60  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

raw  meat,  which  she  bestowed  with  great  care 
upon  the  growling  young  animal. 

As  the  man  and  woman  watched  him  de 
vour  it,  they  laughed  with  all  the  gleefulness 
of  children  at  their  strange  pet.  When  the 
last  remnant  of  food  had  disappeared,  the  two 
looked  at  each  other  gravely.  The  woman 
sighed,  and  the  man  responded  to  it. 

"  Mais,  Marie,  we  ought  to  stuff  heem  !  He 
will  gro'  too  big !" 

John  turned  to  go,  but  the  little  man  touch 
ed  him  on  the  arm. 

"  Attendez,  mo'su',  if  you  is  pleas'  I  would 
lige  to  sho'  yo'  som'ting  helse." 

Opening  the  rear  door,  he  led  the  way 
through  a  room  which  was  a  duplicate  of  the 
front  one  in  the  way  of  dust  and  odors,  then 
out  on  a  gallery  and  into  a  small  court-yard. 
The  open  air  was  like  a  breath  of  heaven 
when  contrasted  with  the  rooms  just  vacated. 

The  freshly  reddened  bricks  suggested  clean 
liness  unknown  inside.^  Large  green  boxes, 
arranged  against  the  outside  walls,  were  filled 
with  growing  plants,  whose  blossoms  perfumed 
the  air.  Just  under  the  hydrant  and  over  a 
small  drain  was  a  great  tub  filled  with  water- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  6 1 

lilies.  In  one  corner  an  oleander  blossomed, 
in  another  a  huge  agave  spread  out  its  barbed 
waxen  leaves. 

Noting  John's  look  of  pleased  surprise,  the 
little  man  said, 

"  Oui,  mo'su',  when  I  work  I  work,  and  think 
of  nothing  helse ;  but  out  here  it  is  where  I 
take  my  plaisure." 

He  whistled,  and  a  mocking-bird  came  float 
ing  down  from  somewhere,  and  settled  on  his 
shoulder. 

"  Thes'  is  my  Marie's  pet.  She  must  mek' 
heem  sing  fo'  you." 

Marie  came  obedient  to  the  front,  and  call 
ed  the  bird  softly,  cherie  !  cherie  !  He  circled 
around  a  moment,  and  then  perched  on  her 
forefinger.  She  began  humming  a  simple 
French  waltz,  when  suddenly  the  bird  took  up 
the  air  and  carolled  it  forth  in  full  musical 
tones. 

"  Yes,  he  is  one  fin'  bird,  an'  Marie  liges 
heem,  but  he's  not  som'ting  strange,  lige  I 
want  sho'  you."  • 

In  the  shade  of  a  crape-myrtle  was  a  large, 
handsome  cage  swinging  by  a  cord  from  one 
of  the  branches  and  inside  of  it,  a  slender, 


62  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

graceful  white  bird,  resting  quite  still  upon  its 
perch,  with  its  head  turned  on  one  side,  and 
peering  curiously  out  of  its  bright  eyes. 
"  He  is  som'ting  strange,  eh  ?" 
"  I  never  saw  anything  like  him." 
"  Non  ?     An'  mebbe  nevva  will,"  said  the 
little  man,  drawing  himself  up  to  his  full  tip 
toe  height,  and  coming  down  again  with  em 
phasis  upon  his  heels.     "  He's  what  you  call 
one  freak,  an'  no  mo'  lige  heem  in  the  contree. 
He's  one  white  blackbird." 

"  Ah  !"  said  John.  "  You  ought  to  exhibit 
him.  He  would  probably  bring  you  in  more 
money  than  your  shop  with  all  its  stuffed  birds 
and  skins  and  other  curiosities." 

"  Non,  non  !"  said  the  little  man,  somewhat 
resentfully  ;  "  I  ham  no  sho'man.  My  Marie 
an'  me,  we  lov'  hour  lill'  shop,  we  hav'  all  we 
wan' ;  for  mo'  monaie  " — he  sank  his  head  be 
tween  his  shoulders,  threw  out  his  elbows  at 
right  angles,  and  turned  his  broad  hands  up 
ward — "  we  doan'  care.  Long  time  I  had  som' 
birds  fo'  sell;  mais  Marie  she  feed  heem  an' 
lov'  heem,  an'  when  som'  customaire  com',  she 
say, '  Doan'  sell  heem ;'  an'  som'  mo'  com,'  an' 
she  say,  '  Doan'  sell  heem ;'  till  one  da'  I  geev' 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  63 

up  an'  say, '  We  doan'  mek'  som'  monaie  lige 
these,'  an'  I  buy  nothin'  mo'  fo'  sell  but  som' 
skin  an'  som'  curhosities.  Now  these  lill'  shop 
is  ours,  these  yard,  these  lill'  birds,  an'  we  are 
happy.  I  would  not  try  som'ting  helse,  fo' 
we  doan'  know."  The  inevitable  shrug  em 
phasized  his  meaning.  "  But,"  he  added,  apol 
ogetically,  "  I  ham  glad  to  sho'  my  birds  to 
anybodie  who  is  pleas'." 

John  was  more  interested  in  the  taxider 
mist  than  in  ornithology,  but  he  pursued  the 
subject  which  most  delighted  the  little  man. 

"  You  say  the  bird  is  rare ;  have  you  never 
heard  of  another  like  him  ?" 

"  Mais,  oui,  mo'su'.  There  was  one  in  Par 
is,  once ;  he  died  in  the  Penetentier.  You 
laf,  mo'su',  but  all  the  same  hit  was  tru'. 
He  was  own  by  one  marquise.  One  da'  de 
kedge  do'  was  lef  hopen  an'  he  disappear. 
You  ma'  be  shu'  he  was  foun'  an'  pick  up  by 
somebodie.  Then  there  was  trub'.  He  was 
va'u'ble,  an'  made  one  great  case  in  court. 
Lawsuits  1  Yes,  many  !  He  was  seiz'  by  the 
police,  an'  he  go  to  preeson,  all  becos  of  de 
color.  Between  them  all,  po  lill'  bird  he  geev' 
up  and  die." 


64  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  They  stuffed  him,  of  course,"  said  John, 
continuing  to  humor  the  little  man's  fancy, 
"  and  gave  him  a  place  of  honor." 

"  Non  !  He  belonged  to  nobodie,  an'  they 
was  stupid ;  but  plenty,  yes  plenty  went  to  see 
him  when  he  was  dead." 

The  bird  on  the  perch  uttered  a  subdued 
croak,  and  the  little  man,  elevating  his  chin, 
responded  with  a  brisk  chirrup,  then  contin 
ued: 

"  One  cla'  I  say  to  Marie,  *  Marie,  our  lill'  bird 
loogs  lonely.  If  his  feather  is  w'ite,  he  is  one 
blackbird  after  all.  We  will  gif  him  som' 
compagnie.'  Mais,  mon  Dieu,  hees  color  did 
not  suit  the  compagnie !  My  lill'  bird  he  go 
to  the  corner,  while  the  compagnie  sit  on  the 
perch  an'  not  look  at  all  plaisant.  I  say, '  Marie, 
'tis  impossib' ;  Nature  is  mo'  strong  'han  we. 
Po'  liir  bird !  He  kin  newer  fin'  his  own 
feather.  He  has  no  mate.  He  is  ver'  lonely.' " 

So  the  little  man  chattered  on  until  John 
took  his  way  through  the  shop  into  the  street 
again.  The  obscurity  of  the  night,  which  had 
precipitated  itself  suddenly,  the  darkness,  which 
every  inanimate  object  exhaled,  the  absence  of 
all  sounds,  served  to  increase  a  peculiar  men- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  6$ 

tal  impression  he  received.  As  he  walked 
along  he  seemed  to  hear  a  refrain  .ringing,  now 
comically,  and  again  pathetically,  "  Po'  lill' 
bird.  He  has  no  mate.  He  is  ver'  lonely." 

The  incident  amused  him,  and  a  smile  still 
lingered  on  his  face  as  he  closed  the  door  of 
the  old  house  behind  him  and  sought  his  sis 
ter. 
5 


66  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  V. 

Miss  ISABEL  always  heard  the  faint  clink  of 
glasses  in  the  dining-room  with  a  sensation  of 
relief.  It  was  the  signal  announcing  the  ap 
proaching  departure  of  her  father's  guests. 
The  visits  of  the  old  men  emphasized  her 
loneliness.  While  they  drifted  away  in  their 
discussions  to  a  remote  past,  her  isolation  was 
complete.  She  might  have  fallen  into  a  state 
of  utter  despondency,  and  felt  more  keenly  the 
oppressiveness  of  her  vacant  life,  but  she  was 
blessed  with  that  wonderful  faculty  frequently 
found  in  her  sex,  an  imagination  so  vivid  that 
it  constructed  for  her  an  ideal  world  into  which 
she  entered  at  will,  with  surroundings  and  ef 
fects  that  satisfied  her  most  ambitious  long 
ings. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  she  had  long 
passed  the  romantic  age,  she  had  visions  of 
social  triumphs  and  delights  as  gorgeous  and 
full  of  changes  as  her  real  life  was  monoto 
nous  and  dreary.  One  might  have  wished 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  67 

nothing  better  than  such  abstract  happiness; 
but  the  sustaining  power  was  unequal  to  out 
side  pressure.  Her  beautiful  world  had  a  hab 
it  of  vanishing  whenever  she  caught  the  drone 
of  voices  not  in  harmony  with  her  ideals,  and 
her  sighs  punctuated  the  periods. 

Her  dreams  were  not  always  selfish.  It  is 
doubtful  if  the  dreams  of  any  woman  are  ever 
entirely  so.  The  law  of  her  development  pro 
vides  a  sacrificial  altar  upon  which  she  may 
offer  up  selfhood  to  some  idolatrous  affection, 
which  sooner  or  later  takes  possession  of  her. 
The  idol  may  be  no  higher  in  the  scale  of  ex 
istence  than  a  green  parrot  or  a  pug-dog,  but 
merit  lies  in  the  sacrificial  act. 

The  central  figure  in  Miss  Isabel's  dreams 
was  her  brother.  Her  chaste  fancy,  purified 
by  years  of  quiet  domesticity,  never  included 
an  alien  image.  She  desired  earnestly  for  him 
all  that  had  been  lost  to  the  family  of  wealth 
and  influence,  absolutely  forgetting  at  times 
to  dwell  upon  the  reflective  beams  which  this 
acquired  splendor  might  cast  upon  her  own 
pathway. 

How  it  was  all  to  be  brought  about  never 
troubled  her.  No  wonderful  series  of  step- 


68  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

by-step  struggles,  to  be  at  last  crowned  with 
success,  rose  before  her  fancy.  The  influ 
ences  moulding  most  women's  lives,  making 
chance  rather  than  personal  effort  the  auto 
crat  of  their  future,  were  powerful  in  her  case, 
for  all  the  chances  had  heretofore  been  in 
favor  of  the  women  of  her  generation.  No 
wonder  her  trusting  spirit  took  airy  flights 
beyond  the  pale  of  logical  sequence  —  com 
monplace  adventures,  after  all,  but  full  of  the 
charm  of  novelty  to  her,  with  the  old  goddess 
of  Good-luck  always  just  beyond  her. 

While  the  thought  of  marriage  for  her 
self  never  obtruded  itself,  it  was  one  of  the 
chances  for  her  brother  which  she  builded 
upon  and  expanded  until  the  idea  assumed 
magnificent  proportions,  and  became  one  of 
the  flighty  images  which  returned  oftenest 
upon  her  busy  fancy. 

A  brilliant  marriage  !  It  was  no  new  thing 
in  the  family  history,  nor  yet  beyond  the 
bounds  of  probability. 

A  fresh  impetus  was  given  to  the  thought 
one  evening  when,  in  the  excitement  of  -read 
justing  a  confused  idea,  she  very  naturally  re 
adjusted  her  prim  neat  necktie.  Her  fingers 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  69 

touched  a  precious  heirloom  in  the  shape  of 
a  brooch  which  she  always  wore.  It  was  an 
exquisitely  painted  'miniature  of  a  young 
woman  with  short,  dark  curls,  slender,  oval 
face,  brilliant  black  eyes,  and  very  white 
shoulders  rising  out  of  misty  clouds.  On 
the  reverse  of  the  gold  case  was  traced  the 
name  "  Ameniade,"  the  very  same  sweet, 
French  name  which  was  graven  years  ago  on 
the  marble  slab  which  closed  upon  all  that 
was  mortal  of  old  Madam  Morant. 

At  the  touch  memory  evoked  many  tradi 
tions  of  the  household,  not  the  least  splendid 
of  which  clustered  around  the  period  when  a 
young  bride  brought  a  rich  dower  to  the  old 
house,  adding  prestige  to  it,  and  setting  the 
name  she  bore  still  higher  above  the  ordinary 
level  of  life. 

A  fact  in  the  past  might  be  repeated  in  the 
future.  Why  not?  Immediately  a  delight 
ful  little  drama  presented  itself  to  Miss  Isa 
bel's  mental  vision,  invested  with  an  external 
reality  of  glow  and  color  that  was  gorgeous 
and  enlivening.  The  air  was  filled  with  joy 
ous  excitement.  Emerging  softly  from  the 
shadows  of  the  old  drawing-room,  came  a 


70  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

youthful  figure  clad  in  white,  with  a  sweet 
face  smiling  behind  the  diaphanous  cloud 
which  floated  around  her  and  beside  her  tall, 
handsome —  Ah !  surely  this  was  no  vagary 
of  the  imagination,  but  the  real  brother  John 
who  stooped  and  kissed  her,  and  laughed  at 
the  bewildered  look,  which  proved  it  hard  to 
return  to  the  boundary  line  of  material 
things. 

A  suspicious  moisture  in  her  eyes  and  a 
half -repressed  sob  made  him  wonder  if  she 
was  ever  glad  to  see  him,  since  his  coming 
seemed  to  be  a  signal  for  tears.  Miss  Isabel 
could  only  respond  with  a  smile  which  made 
her  seem  years  younger,  and  her  tears  as 
sparkling  as  the  rain -drops  from  a  cloud 
through  which  the  sun  suddenly  shines. 

"  Have  the  cronies  gone  ?"  he  asked,  with  a, 
slightly  irreverent  laugh. 

The  solemn  groan  of  the  old  front  door 
uttering  its  good-by  note  answered  his  ques 
tion,  and  hearing  it  Miss  Isabel  rose  and  led 
the  way  to  the  room  just  deserted  by  the 
friends.  * 

There  sat  the  major,  graver  than  usual 
The  evening's  discussion  had  been  full  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  7 1 

turbing  influences.  Byrne  particularly  had 
been  uncomfortable  in  the  revival  of  that 
long-forgotten  story,  in  holding  up  that  old 
offence  of  Billy  Bush  in  the  light  of  a  cumu 
lative  wrong  with  disagreeable  contingencies, 
forcing  one  to  acknowledge  that  consequences 
might  be  less  compassionate  than  the  mood 
of  the  day  which  gave  them  impulse.  Not 
that  the  major  believed  that  the  consequences 
could  have  any  relation  either  nearly  or  re 
motely  to  himself,  but  they  were  unpleasant 
to  keep  in  one's  mind. 

One  could  see  that  the  major  was  troubled. 
Jn  _the  dim  light  which  Miss  Isabel's  prudent 
calculation  of  resources  made  advisable,  with 
his  gray  locks  fringing  the  small  skull-cap 
which  he  constantly  wore,  and  his  shrunken 
figure  lost  in  the  ample  folds  of  his  antique 
dressing-gown,  he  looked  older  and  feebler 
than  usual,  weighed  down,  perhaps,  under  the 
.burden  of '  responsibility  which  sometimes 
strangely  takes  possession  of  a  man  when  he 
is  confronted  by  the  evil  to  which  he  has 
beeit  dumb,  and  which  suddenly  voices  itself. 

What  relief  to  throw  it  all  aside  in  the  new 
greeting,  the  coming  of  his  son  whom  he  em- 


72  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

braced  with  a  new  tenderness,  his  youngest 
born,  the  Benjamin  of  his  old  age!  Solaced 
by  his  presence,  the  major's  light-hearted,  mer 
ry  nature  seemed  to  rise  above  the  infirmities 
of  age  and  the  burden  of  circumstance.  With 
what  spirit  did  he  enter  into  the  minutest  de 
tails  of  his  son's  plans,  slight  as  his  influence 
was  in  shaping  them ! 

Of  the  mysterious  undercurrent  of  senti 
ment  which  was  bearing  his  son  away  from 
present  sympathies  he  was  ignorant.  How 
could  he  guess  that  even  as  John  talked  calm 
ly  of  other  things,  his  pulse  was  bounding  at 
the  memory  of  a  sweet  face  and  the  expres 
sion  of  a  pair  of  wondrous  eyes. 

Miss  Isabel  alone,  with  womanly  instinct, 
divined  that  some  change  had  passed  over 
him.  His  preoccupation,  the  smile  with  which 
he  roused  himself  from  some  irrelevant  reply, 
awakened  her  curiosity. 

"John,"  she  said,  under  her  breath,  sud 
denly  drawing  her  chair  closer  to  his  side, 
and  intently  regarding  him,  "if  I  were  not 


sure—" 


He  laughed  heartily,  and  the  clear,  frank 
light  in  his  eyes  dissipated  her  suspicion. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  73 

Ah !  but  he  was  under  the  influence  of  a 
stronger,  sweeter  intoxicant  than  she  sus 
pected. 

"  You  are  in  a  strange  mood,  John.  What 
has  happened  to  you  ?" 

"  Nothing." 

She  was  not  satisfied  with  his  answer,  as 
her  disturbed  expression  indicated.  The  irre 
sistible  force  which  impels  a  woman  to  go  to 
the  bottom  of  a  mystery  denied  to  her  was 
evidently  at  work,  and  John  enjoyed  the  con 
templation  of  it,  while  he  recognized  the  fact 
that  he  must  eventually  succumb  to  it. 

"  John,"  she  at  length  said,  in  a  coaxing 
tone,  the  sweetness  of  which  was  in  no  way 
impaired  by  her  keen  desire  to  fathom  his 
thoughts,  "tell  me;  you  cannot  deceive  me. 
For  ten  minutes  you  have  been  answering 
papa  at  random.  What  does  it  mean  ?" 

"  That  I  am  possibly  sleepy." 

"  Nonsense." 

There  was  energy  and  unsilenced  curiosity 
in  the  tone. 

Tlie  good  old  major,  soothed  by  their  con 
fidential  aside,  leaned  back  in  his  comfortable 
chair,  with  a  dropping  of  eyelids  and  chin 


74  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

which  suggested  a  dropping  out  of  interest. in 
the  .conversation.  ; 

Then,  in  pity  of  Miss  Isabel's  suspensive 
solicitude,  John  said,  "  You  are  right.  There 
is  something  I  wish  to  tell  you." 

"  I  knew  it," she  replied,  triumphantly.  "Let 
me  guess  it."  And  with  the  facility  of  her 
sex  she  guessed  correctly. 

"John,  you  are  in  love." 

He  changed  color  slightly  under  the  force 
of  the  accusation,  but  the  initiative  of  his> 
confidential  disclosure  seemed  by  no  means 
unpleasant. 

"  Well— the  truth  is— " 

She  did  not  give  him  time  to  explain.  In 
her  limited,  mental  survey  the  main  points  of 
interest  were  easy  of  apprehension. 

"Is  she  lovely?" 

"  Perfectly."  • 

"Rich?" 

Something  jarring  in  the  word  made  John 
hesitate..  Its  meaning  was  outside  the  vocab 
ulary  of  romantic  intelligence. 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  do  not 
know?" 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF,  75 

There  was  distress  and  some  indignation 
in  Miss  Isabel's  voice,  a  betrayal  of  a  shock 
ing  sense  of  collision  between  fancy  and  hard 
facts.  In  all  her  dreams  there  had  never  oc 
curred  the  impetuous  advent  of  a  disastrous 


image. 


Poor  Miss  Isabel!  Her  sympathies  could 
reach  no  broader  range  than  the  field  of  emo 
tion  in  which  they  had  been  nurtured.  Were 
poverty  and  obscurity,  after  all,  to  settle  down 
more  closely  around  the  old  house,  and  were 
they  to  come  from  the  point  towards  which  she 
had  always  turned  for  the  maintenance  of  all 
her  hopes  ? 

"Oh,  John!  Are  you  wise?  are  you  pru*- 
dent  ?  Remember  how  much  depends  upon 
you." 

The  strength  of  her  fears  .prevented  her 
from  seeing  that  she  had  wounded  the  self-es 
teem  which  is  never  more  sensitive  than  when 
a  man  is  under  the  influence  of  a  passion 
which  demands  that  all  the  advantages  be  on 
his  side.  It  seemed  the  confirmation  of  her 
anxiety  when  John  answered, 

"Prudence  is  a  possible  road  in  the  affec 
tions,  but  a  man  doesn't  discover  it  until  he 


?6  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

has  lost  himself  in  a  more  probable  direc 
tion." 

"  At  any  rate,  I  do  hope  you  will  be  happy," 
said  Miss  Isabel,  with  a  disconsolate  accept 
ance  of  facts  in  which  she  saw  the  accustomed 
pattern  of  her  life  robbed  of  its  brightest 
threads. 

"  Cease  to  torment  yourself  with  doubts  of 
it,"  said  John,  amused  at  her  tragic  tone ;  and 
he  drew  such  a  picture  of  the  woman  he  loved 
in  her  attitude  towards  himself  rather  than 
towards  the  world,  that  Miss  Isabel  once  more 
rose  to  the  region  of  romance. 

This  time  she  felt  the  need  of  larger  sym 
pathy.  The  sudden  expansion  of  her  mood 
found  expression  in  a  little  shriek. 

"  Oh,  papa,  papa  !" 

"  What  is  it,  my  daughter  ?"  exclaimed  the 
major,  waking  from  the  slight  doze  into  which 
he  had  fallen,  very  much  startled  by  Miss  Is 
abel's  outburst. 

Receiving  no  prohibitory  glance  from  John, 
she  explained. 

"  Oh,  papa,  he  is  going  to  be  married !" 

"  Married  ?"  said  the  major,  as  if  he  did  not 
quite  believe  that  he  had  heard  accurately. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  77 

"  Yes,  married." 

Then  the  major  sat  bolt  upright,  fixing  his 
eyes  wonderingly  upon  his  son.  He  could 
not  reconcile  his  every-day  idea  with  this  new 
one  ;  his  mental  youngster  never  reaching  ma 
jority  with  this  new  young  man,  with  all  the 
dignity  of  manhood  asserting  itself  in  elevated 
head  and  undaunted  presence. 

His  need  of  expression  was  as  strong  as 
Miss  Isabel's.  There  must  have  been,  some 
where  in  his  early  associations,  a  tendency 
towards  vigorous  English,  which  he  had  com 
promised  in  the  expletive  to  which  he  now 
gave  vent — the  only  one  he  was  ever  known 
to  use.  "  By  George  !" 

John  flushed  under  the  profound  astonish 
ment  of  the  tone. 

"  Don't  pass  judgment  upon  me  just  yet. 
My  sister  has  jumped  to  a  conclusion." 

"  Not  an  unwarranted  one,  I  presume,"  said 
the  major,  slowly  regaining  his  kindly  look, 
and  pursing  his  brow  and  mouth  with  the  air 
of  one  who  has  made  just  the  same  jump. 

"  Perhaps  not,"  responded  John,  deprecat- 
ingly ;  "  but  there  has  been  nothing  very  def 
inite  in  what  I  have  said." 


78  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  Then  we  may  hope  that  you  have  been 
as  limited  in  declaration  elsewhere,"  said  the 
major,  with  less  anxiety  in  his  tone.  "  It  is  an 
affair  in  \vhich  one  must  move  slowly.  I  do 
not  claim  your  confidence,  but  if  you  choose 
to  give  it —  We  are  ready — " 

The  major  leaned  forward  with  interest  in 
every  line  of  his  good  old  face.  He  listened 
with  the  sensations  of  the  profoundly  experi 
enced  to  the  growing  eloquence  of  youthful 
fancy. 

In  very  defence  of  himself  he  felt  finally 
obliged  to  interrupt  it.  The  aged  father  no 
less  than  the  romantic  sister  must  be  assured 
upon  certain  points. 

"  Yes,  yes,  we  will  take  her  beauty  and  fas 
cinations  upon  trust.  You  are  a  good  judge 
of  such  matters  ;"  and  with  an  indulgent  smile, 
"  a  fair  relater  of  them.  But  who  is  she  ?  What 
of  her  family  ?  You  know  we  Morants  hold 
good  lineage  above  everything  else." 

"  We  may  take  that  on  trust  too,  papa,"  said 
Miss  Isabel,  loftily. 

There  was  an  irritating  principle  in  Miss 
Isabel's  supreme  belief  in  him  which  roused 
John  to  criticism  of  the  Morant  creed,  even 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  79 

though  he  felt  he  would  never  be  in  danger 
of  violating  it. 

"  You  have  given  me  credit  for  an  amount 
of  hereditary  pride  which  I  do  not  possess. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  grandfathers  lived  and 
died  I  do  not  care  to  go.  I  am  content  with 
the  merits  of  the  present  generation.  For  me 
it  is  enough  to  know  that  my  wife  will  occupy 
the  position  I  give  her,  and  if  she  pleases  me 
and  makes  me  happy  I  will  be  content." 

A  contemplation  of  the  superb  egotism  of 
the  divine  passion  in  its  masculine  phase 
hushed  for  a  moment  any  protest  on  the  part 
of  the  hearers. 

In  that  moment  the  major  felt  the  depres 
sion  of  spirits  which  had  once  before  seized 
upon  him. 

Miss  Isabel  jumped  to  another  conclusion. 

"  Papa." 

"  My  daughter." 

"  There  is  nothing  to  fear.  It  is  the  stamp 
of  the  Morant  pride  which  makes  him  speak 
as  he  does." 

On  this  basis  cordial  humor  was  restored, 
and  in  the  semi-darkness  of  the  old  rooms 
they  pursued  the  conversation,  kindly,  gen- 


8O  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

tly,  softly,  the  major  going  over  the  familiar 
ground  whereon  family  pride  had  builded,  em 
phasizing  lightly  here  and  there  a  ruin,  but 
throwing  over  all  the  rosy  light  which  age 
flashes  prodigally  only  upon  the  pathway 
which  lies  behind  it :  Miss  Isabel  confining 
herself  to  no  boundary  lines,  and  John  indulg 
ing  the  beautiful  present,  the  present  which 
held  for  him  no  shadows  deeper  than  the 
changing  lines  of  a  woman's  face. 

Later  when  Miss  Isabel  went  to  her  own 
room  and  unpinned  her  precious  heirloom 
preparatory  to  putting  it  away  in  its  little 
worn  leather  case,  she  held  it  an  instant  lon 
ger  than  usual  in  her  hand,  and  then  laid  it 
away  with  a  triumphant  smile.  It  was  a  se 
curity  of  the  past  that  had  become  a  pledge 
of  the  future. 

John,  wending  his  way  back  through  the 
sombre  streets,  over  which  the  full  moon  was 
just  beginning  to  shed  her  light,  reflected 
rather  discontentedly  that  he  had  expected  a 
less  materialistic  view  of  his  confessions.  Was 
it  the  unselfishness  or  the  complete  selfish 
ness  of  his  passion  which  forced  this  conclu 
sion  of  his  thoughts  ? 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  8 1 

"  Nothing  can  prevent  me  from  marrying 
the  woman  I  love,  if  she  loves  me."  And  as  the 
moon  rose  higher  and  brighter,  and  shed  a 
silvery  radiance  just  across  his  pathway,  it 
roused  him  to  daring  assertion,  and  he  whis 
pered  with  a  smile,  "  I  believe  she  does." 
6 


82  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

WHILE  rust  and  decay  took  possession  of 
the  old  French  quarter  of  New  Orleans,  the 
garden  district,  as  the  people  delighted  to  call 
it,  blossomed  in  the  sunshine  of  wealth  and 
prosperity. 

In  spring  days  a  freshness  of  verdure  and 
fragrance  pervaded  the  whole  extent  of  it. 
The  scent  of  orange-flowers,  sweet  olive,  and 
violets  floated  up  from  every  side.  Through 
open  windows  the  breeze  laden  with  this  per 
fume  came  like  a  diffusive  elixir.  Each  green 
enclosure  fronting  the  broad  streets  seemed 
to  the  passer-by  like  a  new  laboratory  for  the 
combination  of  Nature's  sweetest  odors.  The 
great  live-oaks,  neighbored  by  stately  magno 
lias,  shaded  velvety  lawns  and  made  solid  com 
fort  for  the  hot  days  of  the  later  season.  Birds 
nested  and  sang  in  their  branches. 

The  houses,  as  a  general  rule,  conforming 
to  no  order  of  architecture,  and  retired  as  far 
as  possible  from  the  gates  and  fences,  might 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  83 

not  have  claimed  consideration  from  one  drink 
ing  in  the  delicious  delights  of  color,  fragrance, 
and  melody,  but  here  and  there  a  residence 
stood  out  from  its  neighbors,  as  if  demanding 
criticism,  and  sometimes  securing  more  than 
a  fair  share  of  it,  maintaining  its  importance 
with  the  thoroughly  light-hearted  look  of  fresh 
white  paint.  If  there  was  an  expression  pre 
vailing  above  all  others  in  the  houses  great 
and  small,  it  was  that  of  a  desire  to  secure  the 
deepest  inspiration  of  the  south  wind.  The 
brightest,  cheeriest  windows  turned  to  that 
point  of  the  compass  to  hail  its  coming. 

Alfred  Muir  had  made  his  selection  of  a 
home  with  an  Englishman's  instinctive  ten 
dency  towards  space-room  for  the  typical  el 
bows  which  occupy  every  inch  conceded  to 
them.  His  extensive  grounds  were  full  of 
large  effects,  masses  of  color  in  shaded  spots, 
great  grass-plots  vividly  green  in  the  open  sun 
shine,  and  luxuriant  borderings  kept  with  a 
nicety  of  detail  that  would  have  astounded  a 
champion  of  the  brick  and  broken  glass  era. 
Personally  he  was  very  much  like  his  grounds, 
large,  well -shaven,  and  clean -looking.  The 
son  of  a  respectable  Liverpool  merchant,  he 


84  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

had  become,  at  a  very  early  age,  a  commercial 
agent  of  his  father's  house,  extending  more 
particularly  its  American  interests.  In  one  of 
his  trips  across  the  Atlantic,  he  formed  the 
acquaintance  of  a  young  girl,  an  orphan,  who 
was  being  sent  abroad  to  complete  her  educa 
tion  at  a  celebrated  convent  near  Paris.  A 
profound  impression  was  made  upon  him  by 
her  gentle  beauty.  Her  tall,  slight  figure,  slen 
der  face,  brunette  complexion,  and  sad  brown 
eyes,  provoked  an  interest  which  was  supple 
mented  by  the  knowledge  of  a  fact  as  pow 
erful  in  its  influence  upon  an  Englishman's 
heart  as  personal  beauty.  She  possessed  a 
fortune  large  enough  to  warrant  his  most  as 
siduous  efforts  to  obtain  her  favor,  notwith 
standing  the  fact  that  it  was  invested  in  a  man 
ner  distasteful  to  the  average  sentiments  of 
his  class,  in  plantations  and  negroes.  So  per 
sistent  were  his  attentions,  and  so  unexcep 
tionable  his  address,  that  at  the  completion  of 
her  studies  he  secured  the  gentle,  beautiful 
girl  for  his  wife,  and  settled  down  in  England 
to  enjoy  his  American  possessions. 

The  delicate  beauty  which  had  charmed 
him  did  not  ripen  into  the  florid  vigor  of  his 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  85 

matronly  countrywomen.  The  frail  physique, 
burdened  with  an  insidious  lung  trouble,  grad 
ually  succumbed  to  its  advances,  and  faded 
away  forever  in  the  second  year  of  marriage. 

There  was  left  to  the  young  Englishman  a 
little  daughter  to  whom  he  devoted  himself. 
The  mother  had  overruled  the  husband  in 
naming  the  child.  Local-attachment  was  more 
intense  with  her  than  any  other  sentiment, 
and  she  cherished  the  memory  of  her  former 
home,  beautified  by  every  pleasant  impression 
which  early  associations  can  fix  in  the  mind 
with  passionate  tenderness. 

It  was  a  veritable  homesickness  which  made 
the  beautiful  Indian  name  of  her  native  State 
the  most  fascinating  of  sounds.  How  many 
things  it  recalled  to  her! — the  far-away  fields, 
the  white  plantation  house  gleaming  amid  the 
trees,  a  little  girl  bending  over  the  balustrade 
of  the  long  galleries,  watching  the  frolicsome 
antics  of  ragged  ebony-faced  children  just  es 
caped  from  the  quarters,  the  cotton -picking, 
the  negro  Christmas — all  her  childish  life  pict 
uring  itself  in  never-to-be-forgotten  scenes. 

A  strange  name  to  give  a  child,  but  it 
pleased  her  fancy;  and  it  so  happened  that 


86  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

instead  of  the  stately  Saxon  Edith,  favored  by 
the  father,  the  mother's  loving  persistence 
gained  for  the  infant  daughter  a  name  which 
embodied  her  faithful  retrospect. 

She  called  her  Alabama. 

Afterwards  a  pet  diminutive  came  to  super 
sede  it,  and  those  who  loved  the  child  best 
called  her  Bamma. 

It  would  have  required  a  broad  stretch  of 
the  imagination  to  have  connected  the  idea  of 
constancy  to  a  wife's  memory  with  Alfred 
Muir's  cheerful  type.  One  would  have  said 
that  he  was  the  man  of  all  others  to  have 
fitted  himself  snugly  into  a  new  affection. 
That  he  did  not,  proved  that  one  might  have 
been  mistaken.  He  enjoyed  thoroughly  the 
social  side  of  life,  but  whenever  his  friends 
rallied  him  upon  the  prospect  of  a  second  mar 
riage  he  dismissed  the  question  lightly — "  I 
have  had  my  share  of  happiness,"  and  he  de 
voted  himself  to  the  child. 

Some  one  has  said  that  an  Englishman  can 
never  travel  without  his  wife  and  his  umbrella. 
In  Mr.  Muir's  case  one  might  have  put  in 
place  of  wife  his  little  daughter.  She  went 
with  him  everywhere,  and  made  it  home  for 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  8/ 

him  wherever  he  went.  Inheriting  the  moth 
er's  grace  and  delicacy,  she  possessed  an  inex 
haustible  gayety  of  heart  that  was  a  fountain 
of  delight  to  the  father.  He  spared  nothing 
to  make  her  happy. 

There  were  many  journeyings  to  and  fro 
upon  the  Continent  before  he  brought  her 
home  at  last  to  her  mother's  country,  journey- 
ings  in  which  she  seemed  to  have  garnered 
nothing  more  ponderous  than  golden  sunshine 
and  a  bit  of  song. 

The  atmosphere  of  the  joyous  Southern 
city  suited  her.  A  native  could  have  entered 
no  more  vehement  protest  than  she  against 
the  good-natured  sneer  with  which  in  the  car 
nival  days  the  practical  Englishman,  her  father, 
suggested  that  men  might  find  better  employ 
ment  than  in  making  monkeys  of  themselves. 

The  far-sighted  business  man  saw  the  shad 
ow  of  a  day  of  reckoning  in  the  folly  of  the  mo 
ment,  the  young  girl  only  danced  and  sung. 
Nevertheless  the  day  of  payment  came  swift 
ly  and  in  a  most  unexpected  manner  to  her. 

One  bright  spring  morning  when  the  hours 
had  advanced  to  a  period  of  special  interest 
for  her,  she  opened  the  broad  Venetian  win- 


88  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

dow  which  invited  the  south  wind,  and  raised 
her  face  to  catch  a  breath  of  it.  She  uttered 
a  soft  sigh  of  content  as  it  stirred  her  hair  and 
fluttered  the  lace  at  her  throat. 

A  slight  shiver  passed  through  her,  and  she 
stretched  her  hands  upward  to  meet  the  sun 
shine  which  found  its  way  through  a  lattice 
of  leaves  formed  by  the  branches  of  the  oak 
near  by,  that  shaded  half  the  window. 

The  sunshine  touched  the  outstretched 
palms,  crept  up  the  rounded  arms,  and  then 
glorified  her  face.  It  brightened  her  very  dark 
hair  and  glittered  upon  the  small  white  teeth 
shining  behind  the  parted  crimson  lips. 

The  cheeks  usually  too  pale  took  on  a  tinge 
of  color  that  gave  depth  and  lustre  to  the  eyes, 
and  the  few  brown  freckles  that  came  out  dis 
tinctly  in  the  bright  light  served  to  enhance 
the  beauty  of  the  cream-white  complexion. 

Material  beauty  breathed  through  every  line 
of  the  face  and  the  lithesome  figure. 

Something  pleased  her.  She  swayed  to  and 
fro,  as  if  in  response  to  some  unuttered  musical 
rhythm.  Now  and  then  a  slight  blush  suffused 
her  cheek,  and  her  hand  went  instinctively  to 
her  heart,  as  if  to  stay  the  warm  color  there. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  89 

Again  covering  her  eyes  with  both  little  palms, 
she  laughed  softly,  and  swayed  again  to  the 
melody  she  alone  could  hear. 

Just  here  by  this  very  window  he  had  taken 
her  hand,  and  —  yes — had  kissed  her!  The 
spot  where  his  soft  mustache  had  touched  her 
cheek  glowed  vividly.  No  one  had  ever  dared 
to  kiss  her;  but — and  the  quick  blush  came 
again — she  had  given  some  one  the  right  to 
dare  it.  Oh,  supreme  confession  !  She  fled 
from  the  magnitude  of  it. 

Catching  up  her  garden-hat,  she  went  out 
among  the  flowers,  as  if  they  could  deliver  her 
from  the  weight  of  it. 

The  world  outside  was  brilliant ;  the  little 
bunches  of  violets  growing  by  the  steps  sent 
up  a  delightful  fragrance  as  her  skirts  brushed 
them.  She  stooped  to  gather  two  or  three,  and 
farther  on  she  added  to  them  a  rose-bud. 

There  was  method  in  the  arrangement  One 
might  have  seen  the  ultimate  design  shaping 
itself  in  the  conscious  smile  about  the  full, 
rosy  mouth. 

A  sound  startled  her. 

Swift  as  the  movement  of  a  bird,  one  little 
hand  disappeared,  and  nestling  at  the  back 


QO  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

upon  her  slender  waist,  defied  a  chance  betray 
al  of  the  floral  treasures.  Their  time  was  not 
yet  come.  The  footsteps  and  figures  upon  the 
banquet  were  unresponsive  and  unfamiliar. 

She  laughed  softly,  very  softly,  two  or  three 
little  silvery  trills,  with  a  slight  catch  of  the 
breath  at  the  last.  Then  she  became  full  of 
artifice. 

She  turned  her  head,  elevated  her  pretty 
face,  and  looked  far  away  through  the  branch 
es  of  the  live-oak  into  the  blue  sky  beyond, 
while  her  hand  dropped  slowly  down  from  its 
perch  and  hung  by  her  side,  quite  still  for  a 
moment.  She  raised  it  stealthily,  until  the 
flowers  touched  her  lips,  and  caught  a  light 
kiss  upon  their  cool  and  fragrant  leaves. 

Was  ever  fresh  young  life  more  fair  and 
sweet  ? 

John  Morant  coming  at  this  moment  and 
standing  beside  her,  must  have  answered  some 
such  mental  question — one  could  have  guess 
ed  how  satisfactorily  to  himself  by  the  glow 
upon  his  face,  and  the  look  of  pride  and  fer 
vid  admiration  in  his  eyes.  He  was  moved  to 
the  depths  of  his  appreciative  nature  by  her 
innocent  loveliness. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF,  9 1 

Little  wonder  that  he  gazed  at  her  exult- 
ingly  in  the  light  of  so  fair  a  day.  Man's  love  is 
conquered,  won,  and  thrives  best  in  the  atmos 
phere  of  physical  beauty,  and  she  was  his  own. 

In  the  great  oak  a  red-bird  sent  out  a  shrill 
triumphant  note. 

It  was  the  essential  harmony  of  a  moment 
which  expanded  John's  soul  with  the  godlike 
conceit  of  his  ability  to  command  his  fate,  his 
own  pre-eminence  seeming  to  be  the  one  man 
ageable  fact  of  his  existence. 

"  For  me  ?"  he  said,  confidently  touching  the 
suggestive  flowers. 

She  shook  her  head  and  carelessly  pinned 
them  in  the  lace  at  her  throat.  It  was  a 
very  indirect  way  of  approaching  an  intention. 
Possibly  she  resented  a  certain  air  of  pro 
prietorship  which  might  lessen  her  power  to 
sway  him.  If  so,  her  small  coquetry  re-estab 
lished  her  feeling  of  security,  for  a  shade  of 
disappointment  passed  over  his  face.  By  so 
slight  a  caprice  may  profound  emotion  be 
dominated  in  a  time  which  seldom  repeats  it 
self  in  a  man's  life. 

"  You  expected  me.  I  thought,  then,  they 
were  gathered  for  me." 


Q2  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

"  And  if  they  were  not?" 

"  Then  their  value  lies  in  the  intention  which 
holds  them.  To  prompt  it  would  be  to  de 
preciate  them." 

"  Are  you  quite  certain  you  will  never  ask 
them  of  me  ?" 

"  Quite  certain." 

He  had  regained  his  look  of  confidence, 
while  she  nestled  her  chin  close  against  the 
flowers,  as  if  they  might  betray  a  secret. 

"  But  you  will  be  kind  to  me,"  he  added,  "  if 
I  tell  you  I  am  come  to  ask  a  greater  favor  ?" 

Among  the  pleasant  thoughts  which  filled 
his  mind,  was  one  whose  origin  was  in  a  cer 
tain  discussion  of  his  happiness,  which  had 
urged  his  consideration  of  all  the  articles  of 
family  pride. 

How  thoroughly  he  had  considered  them 
he  desired  to  prove  to  the  two  who  rested 
their  faith  on  him.  Their  retired  life  had 
given  them  no  opportunity  of  meeting  this 
beautiful  girl,  and  it  was  his  urgent  wish  to 
present  her  to  them,  his  promised  wife,  as  fair 
a  woman,  he  exultingly  believed,  as  any  Mo- 
rant  had  ever  brought  to  his  home.  As  much 
of  the  circumstances  surrounding  them  as 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  93 

needed  explanation  he  told  to  Bamma,  and 
then  he  asked  if  she  would  go  with  him  to 
see  them. 

"  You  know  the  custom  of  the  old  French 
district  demands  a  first  visit  from  the  stranger. 
And,"  he  continued,  responding  to  a  look  in 
her  eyes  which  for  a  moment  suggested  de 
liberation,  "  it  will  only  be  a  new  field  of  con 
quest.  They  can  but  love  you  as  I  do." 

She  blushed  rosy  red  at  this  assurance. 
Flattery  was  no  new  thing  in  her  life,  but  it 
was  very  fresh  and  sweet  in  this  new  relation. 
If  the  contemplated  visit  possessed  a  debata 
ble  point,  it  was  lost  in  the  subjection  of  her 
will  to  a  guiding  power  stronger  than  any  that 
had  ever  influenced  it.  She  consented. 

Slight  a  concession  as  this  was,  it  caused 
John  to  feel  a  sudden  elation,  an  added  sense 
of  security  in  the  supreme  results.  His  pulse 
beat  high  with  pride  and  joy.  The  vision  of 
Bamma  by  his  father's  side,  lighting  with  her 
joyous  presence  the  shadows  of  the  old  house, 
illumined  his  eyes.  Was  it  instinct  that  made 
her  shrink  from  their  brightness  ?  Could  she 
ever  comprehend  the  high-strung  romantic 
side  of  his  nature,  which  evoked  the  images  of 


94  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

all  the  noble  women  who  had  borne  the  fam 
ily  name  and  honor,  that  he  might  place  her 
beside  them  and  glory  in  his  choice  ? 

"  Oh  !"  exclaimed  she,  hastily,  with  a  down 
ward  sweep  of  the  curling  lashes  which  shield 
ed  her  eyes  from  his  ardent  gaze,  "  I  am  not 
sure.  Your  judgment  is  prejudiced.  They 
may  be  able  to  form  an  opinion  of  me  less 
favorable  than  yours." 

"  Take  courage,"  he  responded,  with  the 
quick  instinct  of  his  gallant  French  blood, 
"  if  I  acknowledge  that  they  may  ;  for  it  would 
only  imply  the  superlativeness  of  my  own." 

The  color  rose  in  her  face,  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  at  his  words.  What  woman's  heart 
ever  failed  to  grow  warm  at  honeyed  speech ! 

"  Name  a  day,  then,  and  compel  me  to  the 
engagement,  or  I  may  be  tempted,  after  all,  to 
run  away  from  it." 

"  To-morrow  ?" 

"  When  you  please." 

"  To-morrow,  then,  it  shall  be.  But  how  shall 
I  bind  you  to  your  word  if  you  grow  timid  ?" 

"  I  will  give  you  a  pledge."  She  took  the 
flowers  from  where  they  had  nestled  against 
her  delicate  throat  and  offered  them. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  95 

"  So  I  must  take  them,  after  all,  with  con 
ditions.  Well,  I  have  need  of  lessons  of  pa 
tience,  and  you  shall  teach  me." 

"  No,"  she  responded,  with  a  light  laugh ; 
"  take  them  unreservedly.  I  can  never  have 
you  think  of  me  as  a  teacher." 

Contemplating  her  from  a  stand-point  be 
yond  the  sympathetic  influences  of  youth  and 
beauty,  one  would  have  echoed  her  words, 
"  Never  a  teacher,"  and  still  thoughtfully  re 
garding  her,  it  might  have  been  said  that  but 
for  an  indefinable  lack  of  spirituality  in  a 
loveliness  which  glowed  in  the  morning  sun 
shine  with  all  the  vigor  and  color  of  the  flesh, 
one  would  have  called  her  an  inspiration. 
Truly  a  notable  woman !  with  her  full  round 
ed  shoulders  and  beautiful  bust,  her  large 
eyes  gushing  with  tender  light,  her  straight 
and  delicate  nose,  her  exquisite  teeth,  and 
that  singularly  subtile,  sensuous  charm  about 
the  lower  half  of  the  face,  for  which  disap 
pointed  men  have  been  known  to  kill  others 
or  themselves. 

John  held  her  flowers,  the  fragrant  essence 
of  her  thoughts  of  him,  and  his  eyes  distinctly 
implored  her  to  pin  them  in  his  coat;  but  she 


96  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

glanced  reproachfully  at  the  passers-by  who 
looked  in,  all  unconscious  of  the  little  drama 
before  their  eyes. 

"  It  is  nothing,"   he   said ;   "  you   will    not 


care." 


Bending  forward,  her  fingers  fluttered  for 
an  instant  near  his  heart,  and  repenting  of  all 
coquetry,  she  gave  him  a  glance  of  such  won 
der-working  power  that  a  blessed  calm  seemed 
to  settle  upon  the  whole  world.  Button-hole 
bouquets  and  every  other  fact  but  that  she 
loved  him  were  forgot.  Foolish  drama  !  fool 
ish  words !  Reproduced  for  each  new-comer 
to  the  fairy  land  pre-empted  by  youth.  The 
spirit  moved  them  and  they  spoke,  and  the 
shallowness  of  words  no  more  disturbed  them 
than  the  rustle  of  the  south  wind.  The  cur 
tain  might  ring  down  upon  their  happiness, 
while  the  sweet  applause  of  hidden  voices 
sounded  upon  the  ear  and  re-echoed  along 
the  secret  chambers  of  the  heart. 

When  she  had  dismissed  him  with  a  nod 
and  a  smile  which  were  fitting  accompani 
ments  to  his  thoughts,  he  stood  still  an  in 
stant  looking  tenderly  at  the  little  bouquet 
upon  his  breast ;  then  touching  it  gently  he 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  97 

laid  back  the  lapel  of  his  coat,  and  took  from 
the  inner  pocket  the  next  best  comfort  that 
he  carried  near  his  heart. 

Lighting  his  cigar  as  he  moved  away,  he 
watched  the  smoke  float  upward,  break  into 
rings,  and  spread  away  into  illimitable  space, 
carrying  with  it  a  host  of  pleasant  dreams 
which  rose  just  as  lightly  far  above  material 
things.  Yet  material  things  were  the  domi 
nant  tones  of  his  dreams. 

In  after-years,  if  there  came  to  him  a  breath 
of  spring  morn,  the  odor  of  violets,  the  note 
of  a  bird,  there  came  back  to  him  the  full 
melody  of  that  time.  Memory  instantly  re 
produced  that  scene.  The  touch  of  one  sin 
gle  note  of  that  sweet  harmony  of  light,  fra 
grance,  and  sound  brought  back  the  vision — 

"  Striking   th'  electric  chain  wherewith  we  are  darkly 
bound." 

7 


98  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

IN  the  drive  through  that  portion  of  the 
city  which  Bamma  had  never  visited,  the  per 
fect  fitness  of  day  and  hour  impressed  itself 
pleasurably  upon  John  Morant.  The  dancing 
waves  of  the  crystalline  atmosphere  conveyed 
a  sensation  to  sight  as  well  as  touch.  There 
was  not  a  silvery  drift  across  the  blue  sky  to 
cast  a  shadow.  Nature  was  respondent  to 
gladsome  thought  and  feeling. 

As  he  contemplated  the  pretty  figure  be 
side  him,  an  analysis  of  his  emotions  would 
have  disclosed  his  complete  subjection  to  the 
spell  cast  upon  him  by  the  glance  of  an  eye, 
a  soft,  sweet  smile,  and  the  gracious  droop  of 
a  pretty  head.  Precedents  as  innumerable  as 
the  human  race  itself  would  have  established 
the  invariableness  of  the  condition  under 
given  circumstances ;  but  to  John  it  seemed 
that  the  world  had  returned  to  pristine  beauty, 
and  he  alone  admitted  to  a  knowledge  of  it. 

Fair  to  look  upon  and  full  of  unspeakable 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  99 

grace  was  Bamma,  as,  with  her  parasol  held 
lightly  above  her  head,  she  leaned  forward, 
swaying  from  her  slender  waist  with  willowy 
ease,  noticing  everything,  enjoying  everything, 
animating  the  world  around  her  with  her  fresh 
young  life. 

Exclamations  of  interest  momentarily  es 
caped  her.  The  swift  passage  from  the  new 
ness  and  freshness  of  progress  and  improve 
ment  into  regions  which  represented  an  energy 
long  since  expended,  would  have  conveyed  but 
one  meaning,  that  of  novelty,  to  an  unimpres 
sionable  observer;  but  to  Bamma  the  laby 
rinth  of  dismal  streets  occasionally  appealed 
to  a  sense  of  acquaintanceship — the  tall  houses 
with  drearily  closed  shutters  and  overhanging 
balconies,  long  since  unsafe  to  tread  of  human 
feet ;  the  little  ones  resting  against  each  other 
as  if  for  support,  extending  modestly  upon  the 
banquet  two  or  three  worn  steps,  waiting  wea 
rily  for  feet  that  never  seemed  to  come :  row 
after  row  repeating  themselves  in  a  likeness 
which  grew  upon  her  as  they  advanced. 

"  So  much  for  travel,"  said  John,  answering 
her  suggestion  of  its  familiarity.  "  You  have 
been  robbed  of  the  possibility  of  a  new  im- 


100  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

pression.  It  is  the  type  you  recognize.  Here 
are  transplanted  France  and  Spain,  and  you 
know  immediately  the  inspiration  of  earthen 
tiled  roofs,  plastered  walls,  small,  closed  win 
dows,  and  half  ruinous  habitations.  But,"  he 
continued,  with  mock  solemnity,  "  I  must  not 
forget  to  make  due  allowance  for  the  spirits 
which  haunt  this  old  section,  ready  to  take 
possession  of  every  romantic  invader  of  it,  and 
I  must  warn  you  that  they  are  proverbially 
untruthful.  If  you  breathe  this  atmosphere 
long,  you  will  begin  to  people  these  houses 
with  creatures  of  your  imagination  who  will 
bear  not  a  shadow  of  moral  or  mental  likeness 
to  those  who  have  tenanted  or  do  tenant  them, 
but  you  will  be  able  to  fit  them  into  every 
available  space,  and  make  them  play  their  parts 
as  naturally  as  the  original  inhabitant." 

"  You  would  like  me  to  believe,"  said  Bam- 
ma,  "  that  it  is  a  medium  for  a  sort  of  spiritual 
seance." 

"  That  is  just  what  the  coming  novelist  will 
find  it ;  and  if  he  wields  a  facile  pen  he  will  so 
thoroughly  materialize  his  phantoms  that  they 
will  be  accepted  as  historical."  Turning  a 
corner,  a  sudden  shadow  fell  upon  them.  The 


TOWARDS   THE  GULF.  IOI 

carriage  had  rolled  into  a  street  so  narrow  that 
high  brick  walls  on  either  side  shut  out  the  sun 
shine.  Bamma  closed  her  parasol  and  leaned 
back  with  a  shade  of  uneasiness  upon  her  face. 

Her  sensitiveness  to  external  impressions 
had  increased  to  that  degree  that  she  felt  a 
shuddering  awe  of  the  deserted  houses  about 
her. 

One  house  especially  obtruded  itself  upon 
her  with  a  peculiarly  insinuating  personality 
long  before  they  neared  it,  a  dark,  square, 
many -shuttered  house,  with  a  large  arched 
gate-way  at  the  side,  barred  and  padlocked  so 
long  ago  that  the  years  were  wearied  of  eat 
ing  into  the  heart  of  the  great  iron  bolts,  and 
avenged  themselves  in  the  rotting  panels 
through  which  one  caught  glimpses  of  the 
walled  -  in  yard  beyond,  glimpses  which  dis 
closed  a  growth  of  waving  grasses,  tangled 
vines,  and  such  wild  vegetation  as  in  that 
generous  soil  expends  itself  luxuriantly  upon 
places  forgotten  of  men. 

John  followed  the  direction  of  Bamma's 
eyes  in  their  fixed  attention,  and  asked, 

"  What  is  it  that  interests  you  so  deeply  ?" 

"  A  dreadful  old  place,"  she  answered,  with 


IO2  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

a  shiver,  and  then  instinctively  drew  nearer  to 
John  as  they  rolled  by  it. 

It  was  weird  -  looking  enough  in  the  som 
bre  light.  Time  had  clothed  it  with  singu 
lar  sadness.  There  was  nothing  of  to-day 
in  its  hapless  aspect.  The  filmy  seals  which 
the  industrious  spider  had  placed  upon  shut 
ters  and  door -way  were  old  and  dusty;  the 
years  had  branded  it  as  an  outcast,  and  man 
had  abandoned  it. 

To  John,  whose  perceptive  faculties  were 
blunted  by  familiarity  with  its  grim  outlines, 
there  was  nothing  in  its  appearance  to  stir 
one  to  shuddering  repugnance;  but  upon 
Bamma  it  produced  an  impression  wholly  in 
explicable,  as  if  the  sight  of  it  had  suddenly 
annihilated  all  warmth  and  color. 

"  You  would  never  guess  the  history  of  it," 
said  John.  "  There  was  a  time  when  it  wield 
ed  a  momentous  power  in  shaping  the  des 
tinies  of  some  of  God's  creatures.  It  was  an 
old  slave-yard.  Fancy  the  long  dark  proces 
sions  that  have  filed  in  and  out  of  that 
wretched  gate-way,  while  the  prophets  of  the 
day  looked  on  and  saw  only  the  visions  of 
mighty  empire." 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  103 

"  It  is  haunted/'  said  Bamma,  in  a  depress 
ed  tone.  "  Do  not  tell  me  anything  more  of 
it." 

u  That  you  should  believe  a  thing  so  ab 
surd!"  responded  John,  now  thoroughly  aroused 
to  the  reality  of  her  dread.  "Suppose  I 
translate  your  fear  into  the  vernacular  of 
fetichism,  and  say,  '  The  place  is  voudoued.' 
Are  you  superstitious  enough  to  endure  that 
way  of  putting  it  ?" 

"  Make  it  appear  as  ridiculous  as  you 
choose,"  said  Bamma,  somewhat  nettled  at 
his  tone.  "  I  cannot  deny  that  I  am  supersti 
tious.  I  have  usually  listened  to  hints  of  the 
supernatural  with  little  chills  creeping  over 
me,  yet  they  possess  a  fascination  for  me  that 
I  can  never  withstand,  A  treacherous  sort 
of  pleasure  it  has  proved  itself,  leaving  me 
sometimes  afraid  of  a  shadow.  Oh  !"  she  con 
tinued,  shrinking  closer  to  his  side,  "  if  I  could 
only  tell  you  how  often  and  completely  my 
nerves  have  failed  me." 

"  A  natural  conclusion  to  the  indulgence 
in  superstitious  fancies,"  said  John,  smiling 
in  a  way  which  denoted  his  superior  freedom 
from  them.  "  Unknown  spiritual  quantities 


104  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

always  resolve  themselves  into  a  problem  of 
the  nerves." 

Bamma  declared  that  he  was  not  half  as 
brave  and  unbelieving  as  he  assumed  to  be. 
His  self-complacent  armor  did  not  deceive 
her.  There  was  a  vulnerable  spot,  she  was 
sure,  and  she  would  some  day  see  him  suc 
cumb  to  the  shock  of  a  ghostly  visitation. 
This  vehement  little  speech  she  delivered  in 
a  voice  fast  recovering  from  timorousness ; 
but  there  was  just  that  shade  of  almost  im 
perceptible  coquetry  in  her  manner  which 
made  John  feel  the  admiration  with  which 
she  really  regarded  his  anchorage  upon  firm 
er  ground. 

He  was  well  satisfied  to  receive  her  predic 
tion,  with  no  other  opposition  than  a  slight 
uplifting  of  his  shoulder,  the  faintest  approach 
upon  his  part  to  the  Creole  method  of  a  possi 
ble  admission.  Some  humorous  association  in 
his  mind  followed  the  shrug,  and  that  he  pur 
sued  it  one  might  conjecture  from  the  sud 
den  interest  with  which  he  glanced  about  him. 

The  mental  association  evidently  included 
a  near  object.  Premonitory  images  of  that 
which  he  expected  issued  from  the  adjacent 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  10$ 

walls — vague  resemblances  in  broken  plaster 
and  unwashed  windows  which  vanished  on 
closer  inspection. 

At  last  encroaching  slowly  upon  his  line 
of  vision  came  the  little  taxidermist's  shop. 
He  remembered  it  as  the  chance  occasion  of 
an  amusing  half-hour,  and  in  pointing  it  out 
to  Bamma  he  recalled  with  much  spirit  the 
impressions  of  his  initial  exploration  of  it. 
So  picturesquely  did  he  sketch  its  peculiar 
features,  its  inmates,  and  their  singular  pets, 
that  she  was  immediately  seized  with  the  de 
sire  to  give  it  more  than  passing  attention. 

"  May  we  not  stop  a  moment  ?"  she  in 
quired,  eagerly  scanning  the  wretched  exte 
rior. 

"  Certainly,  if  you  wish  it,"  he  replied,  at 
once  checking  their  course. 

She  was  in  no  way  intimidated  by  the  dis 
closures  he  was  prompted  to  make  of  the  dis 
agreeable  features  of  the  little  proprietor's 
workroom,  and  sprang  lightly  to  the  ban 
quet  when  they  stopped  in  front  of  it. 

Surely  the  small  shop  had  never  admitted 
finer  customers  in  a  finer  way.  The  sun  rose 
high  over  the  tall  houses  at  the  very  moment 


IO6  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

of  their  entrance.  With  the  current  of  air 
that  rushed  in  at  the  opening  door,  was  sent 
a  luminous  stream  which  caused  the  tiger  to 
shift  his  nose  restlessly  and  fold  his  great 
velvety  paws  protectingly  over  his  eyes.  The 
dust  whirled  from  every  projection,  and  ris 
ing  from  the  floor,  floated  down  and  up  and 
through  the  intrusive  beams — animated  frag 
ments,  glittering  or  gray,  just  as  they  touched 
or  receded  from  the  golden  light.  The  shab 
by  specimens  on  the  shelves  lingered  in  the 
shadows,  while  the  mouldy  odors  floated  back 
towards  the  dim  corners  from  which  they 
emanated. 

The  little  owner  came  forward  with  quick 
recognition. 

"  Ah !"  said  he,  bowing  profoundly,  "  it  is 
mo'su'  and,"  with  an  interrogatory  inflection, 
"  madame  ?" 

Bamma  blushed  rosily,  while  John  smiling 
ly  said, 

"  Mademoiselle  has  heard  me  speak  of  your 
curiosities,  and  I  hope  you  will  be  so  good  as 
to  allow  her  to  see  them." 

"  I  shall  be  much  pleas',"  he  responded,  with 
another  profound  bow,  as  an  expression  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  IO/ 

apology  to  mademoiselle,  "  but  it  is  not  much 
I  haf  now,  an'  everything  is  dull  without 
Marie.  She  is  gone." 

"  Gone  ?"  repeated  John,  inquiringly,  afraid 
to  risk  further  question  because  of  the  lugubri 
ous  tone  with  which  the  assertion  was  made. 

"Yes,"  said  the  little  man;  "but  she  will 
come  again,  mebbe,  soon.  'Tis  troo,"  he 
continued,  turning  his  head  on  one  side  with 
a  pensive  contemplation  of  the  fact  to  be  an 
nounced,  "  we  got  no  HI!'  one  howselv',  but 
there  is  one  godchil';  fo'  troo,  we  got  two  god- 
chil',  an'  we  get  all  the  tim'  some  troub'  an' 
hexpense.  Well,"  with  a  long-drawn  sigh, 
"  it  is  all  rhight.  'Tis  to  one  fun'rhal  she  go 
to-da'.  Som'  da'  the  fun'rhal  will  be  fo'  me, 
som'  da'  fo'  Marie,  an'  we  will  wan'  som'boddie 
fo'  ride  in  the  carrhidge." 

The  solemnity  of  this  idea  did  not  long  op 
press  him.  His  volubility,  like  that  of  all  his 
Creole  compatriots,  necessarily  forced  him  into 
precipitate  changes  of  thought  and  topic,  and 
an  unexpectedly  lively  exclamation,  followed 
by  a  low,  short  laugh,  contained  not  an  atom 
of  disrespect  towards  the  casual  exigency 
which  his  quick  imagination  had  just  intro- 


IOS  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

duced.  Both  exclamation  and  laugh  were 
called  forth  by  a  sudden  contemplation  of  his 
savage  pet,  which,  as  it  rested  with  the  sun 
shine  on  its  thick,  fine,  shining  hair,  deepen 
ing  the  transverse  shadows  and  reflecting  the 
tawny  yellow  and  white  lights  upon  its  throat, 
was  a  thing  of  beauty  to  move  the  little  man's 
good-humored  admiration. 

"  Yes,"  said  he,  nodding  emphatically  tow 
ards  the  animal,  "  he  loog  nize,  don't  he  ? 
But  som'  da'  he  mus'  go  too." 

Then,  as  he  approached  and  gently  roused 
it,  Bamma  admired  the  cat-like  grace  with 
which  the  young  tiger  lazily  rose  to  its  feet ; 
but  she  shrank  from  the  glaring  eyes  and  sar 
donic  grin  with  which  it  regarded  her.  She 
could  only  wonder  at  Mane's  infatuation, 
upon  which  the  little  man  descanted  largely, 
and  feel  immensely  relieved  at  the  movement 
towards  the  garden,  where  the  flowers  bloom 
ed  fresher  than  ever  in  their  stiff,  green  boxes, 
and  the  white  bird  peered  curiously  down  at 
them  from  the  myrtle-tree. 

The  small  court-yard  fascinated  her.  She 
scarcely  listened  to  the  voice  of  the  little  man, 
who  with  unflagging  humor  gave  himself  up 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  IOQ 

to  the  pleasant  task  of  repeating  his  little 
stories,  the  details  of  his  narrow  life. 

What  spirit  of  refinement  and  beauty  had 
prompted  this  garden-spot,  and  endured  here 
through  all  the  years  that  it  had  taken  to 
grow  the  splendid  shrubs,  now  advancing  al 
most  to  the  rank  luxuriance  of  climes  still 
farther  south,  and  the  rough  knotted  vines 
which  spread  themselves  in  verdant  masses 
over  unsightly  walls. 

How  old  must  be  the  great  agave !  And 
there,  throwing  a  long  lace -like  shadow  just 
beyond  it — what  was  that  ?  Her  eyes  wan 
dered  around  the  enclosure,  but  were  at  fault. 
Raising  them  higher,  still  higher  than  the 
walls  which  surrounded  her,  she  saw,  waving 
its  sharp  thin  foliage  gently  in  the  air,  the 
graceful  crown  of  a  palm-tree.  Was  it  far 
away?  She  could  not  tell.  Magic  in  its 
mould,  impressing  itself  vividly  against  the 
deep  blue  sky,  it  might  be  either  a  stone's- 
throw  off,  or  immeasurably  distant  in  the 
tropical  vistas  it  suggested,  growing  under 
man's  kindly  care,  or  at  the  will  of  heathen 
nature  untrammelled  by  human  law. 

/Vs  at  the  waving  of  a  magician's  wand,  it 


1 10  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

evoked  vague  fancies.  It  touched  her  like  a 
recollection  of  her  childhood.  Dim  and  shad 
owy,  vanishing  and  returning,  the  quickened 
remains  of  some  anterior  impression  led  her 
into  strange  confusion. 

Her  uplifted  eyes  saw  more  than  a  feathery 
shape  and  illimitable  space.  But  that  vast 
plain  rising  from  the  deep  blue  ocean  might 
be,  after  all,  only  a  cloud  floating  up  to  the 
level  of  her  vision,  as  quick  to  dissolve  and 
recede  from  the  light  as  the  mutilated  memo 
ries  stirred  from  their  hiding-places  in  the 
dimmest  corners  of  her  mind.  Be  the  optical 
deception  what  it  might,  there  was  no  disput 
ing  its  mysterious  fascination.  The  enchant 
ing  atmosphere  favored  illusions,  and  the 
complexion  of  her  mind  inclined  her  to  in 
dulge  them.  Essaying  to  trace  the  tessellated 
shadows  below,  she  had  reached  a  region  of 
more  fantastic  shadows  above. 

The  little  taxidermist  seemed  very  far  away 
just  then,  though  she  still  heard  his  accents 
quaintly  rising  and  falling  in  the  progress  of 
his  efforts  to  please  and  interest.  It  was  to 
John  he  was  addressing  himself,  though  an 
occasional  sentence  reached  her. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  Ill 

"  One  da'  I  say  to  Marie,  '  If  his  fe'ther  is 
w'ite — ' "  Then  more  distinctly  she  heard  a 
plaintive  expression  of  concern  almost  comic 
in  its  emphasis,  and  more  clearly  still  John's 
bantering  inquiry, 

"  And  you  would  not  part  with  your  bird 
at  any  price  ?" 

"  Non,  mo'su',  not  while  he   lives,  fo'   no 


monaie." 


"  But  some  day,  after  he  is  dead,"  persisted 
John. 

"  Ah,"  said  the  little  man,  roused  at  last  to 
the  spirit  of  his  trade,  "  mebbe  yes,  when  we 
stuff  him." 

"  Bamma,"  said  John,  and  Bamma  now  came 
out  of  her  dreams  with  a  smile,  "  remember, 
we  are  to  have  this  wonderful  bird  some  day. 
He  has  promised,  and  we  must  not  let  him 
forget." 

"  Non,  non,  mo'su'  mebbe  shu'  I  will  nevva 
fo'get." 

And  a  few  moments  later,  when  he  bowed 
them  out  of  his  shop,  the  little  man  repeated, 
"  I  will  nevva  fo'get;  I  will  rhemember  it,"  add 
ing,  with  a  beaming  smile  and  profounder  bow, 
"  lige  I  will  alway  rhemember  mademoiselle." 


112  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

Bamma  smiled  still  more  graciously  upon 
the  little  taxidermist  as  a  reward  for  the  amus 
ing  courtliness  of  his  last  speech,  while,  as 
they  turned  away,  John  declared  him  to  be  a 
true  Creole — a  veritable  type  of  the  race  to 
whom  gallant  speech  was  native,  and  incident 
to  no  special  state  or  condition. 

As  for  the  little  man,  he  remained  long  in 
his  door-way  gazing  after  the  gracious  made 
moiselle,  his  elbow  resting  against  the  defaced 
lettering  upon  the  frame,  and  his  hand  shad 
ing  his  keen  bright  eyes.  After  a  while  he 
ran  his  fingers  slowly  through  his  hair,  pull 
ing  it  upward  straight  from  his  head,  as  if  to 
relieve  even  that  pressure  upon  his  burdened 
brain,  then  he  suddenly  folded  his  arms, 
smiled,  and  bowed  once — twice — three  times, 
in  the  direction  which  was  now  vacant  of  any 
moving  object.  He  seemed  suddenly  to  have 
recognized  a  type. 

To  those  departing,  the  small  shop  quickly 
became  a  forgotten  incident.  In  the  dull 
streets  a  slight  current  of  activity  began  to 
be  noticeable.  Those  whom  they  most  fre 
quently  met  were  young  girls  in  white,  with 
blue  ribbons  and  pendent  silvery  medals,  and 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  113 

women  in  black,  whose  features  were  set  in 
the  calmness  of  that  devotional  spirit  which 
marks  a  conscience  given  to  the  keeping  of  a 
superior  power.  The  point  towards  which 
all  were  tending  was  a  small  gray  church, 
with  one  solitary  circular  window  over  the 
door-way,  like  a  great  eye  looking  down  with 
watchful  intent  upon  the  coming  of  the  faith 
ful.  Passing  that,  silence  and  dulness  again 
fell  upon  the  streets. 

"  Come,"  said  John,  gayly,  as  once  again  he 
checked  their  progress,  and  Bam  ma  recog 
nized  all  at  once  the  importance  of  the  one 
little  word  of  entreaty  and  encouragement 

The  ancestral  establishment  was  indeed  be 
fore  them.  Tall  and  forbidding,  inhospitable 
in  every  line  of  the  closed  shutters  which  an 
upward  glance  surveyed,  its  once  aristocratic 
face  was  turned  upon  the  outsider  with  a 
haughty  protest  against  intrusion.  "  Pass 
on,"  it  seemed  to  say  to  every  challenging 
glance,  and  Bamma,  influenced  by  its  air  of 
disapprobation,  would  willingly  have  turned 
away  from  it.  A  wild  desire  seized  upon  her 
to  fly  at  once  from  its  mysterious  hostility. 
In  the  instant  of  conflict  with  this  impulse, 
8 


114  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

when  she  involuntarily  sought  to  satisfy  her 
self  of  the  possibilities  of  indulging  it,  she 
was  again  confronted,  in  every  surrounding 
object,  with  a  confusing,  tantalizing  suggestion 
of  some  former  association.  It  was  strange 
how  steadfastly  the  tiled-roof  cottage  held  her 
attention.  If  it  had  only  been  to  enter  there — 
But  again  John's  voice  entreated  "  Come !" 
and  half  sighing  she  consented. 

Her  smaller  hand  lay  lost  for  a  moment  in 
the  one  he  extended ;  then  descending  from 
the  carriage  they  entered  the  house. 

The  old  door  groaned  more  dismally  than 
usual  as  Celine  opened  it,  and  as  she  stood 
aside,  stately  and  solemn,  to  allow  them  to 
pass,  her  face  was  less  impassive  than  usual. 
It  expressed  something  of  the  curiosity  which 
she  might  be  supposed  to  feel  at  this  depart 
ure  from  the  ordinary  routine  in  the  quiet 
household. 

Bamma  glanced  with  undeniable  interest  at 
the  old  negress.  Unconscious  of  demanding 
leave  of  her  own  will,  she  turned  again  to 
look  upon  the  dark  face,  and  something  riv 
eted  her  gaze.  Her  heart  gave  a  great  bound, 
and  there  sounded  in  her  ears  the  dull  stroke 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  1 15 

of  its  excited  action.  Everything  was  lost  to 
her  vision  but  a  pair  of  glowing  black  eyes 
wide  open  and  staring,  full  of  a  mysterious  ter 
ror  which  held  her  for  an  instant  spellbound. 

With  one  deep  inspiration  she  freed  herself 
and  turned  towards  John.  Reassured  by  his 
unconsciousness  of  her  emotion,  she  looked 
again  at  Celine,  and  saw  only  the  respectful 
bend  of  the  old  woman's  turbaned  head. 

Certainly  her  imagination  was  oddly  active, 
and  her  nerves  responded  in  long  lingering 
vibrations.  Her  condition  was  irrational.  A 
consciousness  stirred  within  her  which  was  in 
strange  communion  with  objects  about  her. 
The  evidences  of  the  past  which  she  had  seen 
for  the  first  time,  accommodated  themselves 
to  the  confusing  memories  which  persistently 
haunted  her.  She  was  overpowered.  For  a 
moment  she  leaned  heavily  upon  John. 

"Courage,"  he  whispered,  mistaking  her 
emotion,  and  thinking  of  the  little  speech  she 
had  once  made  him.  "  It  is  too  late  to  run 
away.  See!  the  father's  spectacles  have 
been  brightened  for  the  occasion.  They  are 
already  regarding  us." 

And  it  did  seem,  when  the  good  old  major 


Il6  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

greeted  her,  as  if  they  beamed  down  upon 
her  with  an  additional  sparkle.  His  nod  of 
satisfaction  sent  forth  such  a  prismatic  gleam 
that  one  could  not  mistake  the  extent  of  his 
approbation. 

Miss  Isabel  watched  with  more  critical  eyes 
the  fair  face  softened  by  a  shade  of  timidity 
as  it  lifted  itself  to  her  welcome.  Its  beauty 
evidently  penetrated  her  reserve,  for  a  glitter 
of  tears  on  Miss  Isabel's  lashes  proclaimed 
the  fact. 

Ah,  what  a  golden  day  that  was  !  It  is  im 
possible  to  say  how  long  its  freshness  and 
glory  remained  with  John ;  and  Bamma,  con 
scious  of  its  subtile  charm,  became  an  enchant 
ing  maiden  so  joyous  and  simply  happy  that 
she  seemed  the  perfection  of  Nature's  mood. 

"  A  very  nice  young  woman,  indeed !"  as 
serted  the  major,  when  he  found  himself  once 
more  alone  with  his  daughter.  "  And  my  son 
tells  me  the  father  is  an  Englishman  of  most 
excellent  family,  and  a  man  of  wealth  too." 

"And  the  mother?"  prompted  Miss  Isabel. 

"  And  the  mother,"  continued  the  major, 
"was  a  very  nice  person  also,  who  left  her 
daughter  a  fine  inheritance." 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  1 1? 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

ONE'S  life  sometimes  reaches  a  period  when 
the  inevitable  struggle  against  human  will 
slackens  or  is  intermitted,  and  opposition  to 
forward  movement  ceases ;  when  one's  path 
way  seems  to  be  rolled  and  smoothed  by 
giant  forces,  and  the  world  resolves  itself  into 
such  an  easy  problem  that  it  is  almost  impos 
sible  to  resist  the  belief  in  one's  own  peculiar 
fitness  for  its  finest  results. 

The  years  roll  on,  and  the  retrospective  eye 
turning  towards  such  a  period  sees  the  pleas 
ant  pathway  leading  up  no  surmountable  ac 
clivity,  but  marks  clearly  and  distinctly  a 
downward  grade  from  which  comes  an  echo 
of  straying  footsteps.  It  holds  a  poignant 
sorrow,  and  the  heart  throbs  painfully  under 
the  weight  of  that  subjunctive  form  of  self- 
reproach  which  is  the  heaviest  of  all  to  bear. 
If  one  had  not  been  blind  !  If  one  could 
only  have  known ! 

3The  period  which  John   Morant  had  just 


Il8  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

touched  might  never  be  the  centre  of  a  sad 
retrospect,  but  it  possessed  all  the  elements 
of  smoothness  and  facility  which  accommo 
date  themselves  readily  to  the  lurking  humor 
of  fate. 

The  objective  point  of  his  happiness — his 
wedding-day — was  fixed,  and  he  was  no  longer 
troubled  by  a  lover's  doubts  and  fears.  Con 
gratulated  upon  all  sides,  he  might  well  have 
been  pardoned  a  trace  of  arrogance. 

Exceptionally  pleasant  was  the  fact  that  his 
vast  heaven  was  unclouded  by  a  suspicion  that 
an  uninterrupted  sequence  of  happiness  might 
include  some  very  selfish  motives.  A  wealthy 
marriage  possessed  undeniable  advantages; 
but  John's  heart  recorded  impressions  beyond 
their  influence. 

Major  Morant,  with  the  fine  instinct  of  one 
who  had  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  capital,  recog 
nized  more  clearly  the  importance  of  such  fa 
vorable  circumstances. 

"  You  will  have  the  opportunity,"  he  said, 
on  one  occasion,  "  and  I  would  urge  you,  my 
son,  to  take  advantage  of  it,  to  quit  a  commer 
cial  life.  Go  back  to  the  ways  of  the  old  Mo- 
rants.  The  old  plantation  is  waiting  for  you. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1 19 

What  comparison  can  be  drawn  between  a 
merchant's  and  a  planter's  life,  which  is  not 
favorable  to  the  latter  ?  The  one  full  of  sub 
serviency,  of  waiting  upon  men's  leisure,  bend 
ing  to  men's  whims,  of  trembling  at  the  shad 
ow  of  richer  men  who  can  corner  one's  lesser 
earnings,  and  the  other  full  of  freedom  and  in 
dependence.  Perfect  safety  and  security  in 
trade  are  unknown  to  the  average  toiler,  but 
the  one  grateful  thing  in  nature  is  the  fruitful 
soil.  The  man  who  depends  upon  it  can  count 
upon  peace  of  mind  as  well  as  dollars  and 
cents." 

"  All  very  fine  in  the  abstract,  father,"  re 
plied  John ;  "  but  times  have  changed  since 
you  were  young.  The  merchant  is  master  of 
the  situation  now.  Even  Nature  seems  less 
generous  than  she  was  in  the  good  old  times, 
and  the  planter  finds  himself  almost  wholly 
dependent  upon  the  man  at  the  desk." 

"  A  very  good  arrangement,"  said  the  ma 
jor  ;  "  one's  comfort  must  be  greatly  enhanced 
by  the  knowledge  of  a  middle  man  upon  whom 
one  may  cast  all  cares  and  bad  debts.  But 
even  under  changed  conditions,"  continued 
the  major,  returning  to  his  proposition,  "  I 


120  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

think  success  lies  in  the  old  place.  Life  would 
be  worth  something  to  see  its  fields  green 
once  more."  And  he  grew  triumphant  when 
his  son  came  to  regard  in  a  favorable  light  the 
thought  of  a  regeneration  of  interests  which 
represented  the  glory  of  olden  days. 

"  I  have  always  said  the  place  would  be  of 
value  again,  and  I  will  live  to  see  it." 

"  We  must  not  underestimate  the  chances 
against  us,"  said  John,  with  a  knowledge  of 
the  accidents  and  failures  recorded  in  the 
pages  which  he  daily  turned. 

"  No,"  said  the  major,  elated  by  the  revival 
of  an  almost  extinguished  hope.  "  It  will  be 
an  experiment,  but  if  you  succeed — " 

There  could  have  been  no  vision  finer  than 
the  one  which  then  filled  the  major's  eye.  A 
vast  plain  blossoming,  ripening,  whitening  un 
der  the  fervid  rays  of  a  midsummer  sun,  and 
here  and  there,  bending  to  the  toil  of  the  day, 
moving  lines  of  laborers  whose  dark  faces, 
with  changing  aspect,  showed  occasionally 
above  the  broad,  level,  smooth  roadways  lead 
ing  up  to  the  great  gin-house,  over  which 
rolled  and  swelled  with  the  light  breeze  a 
fleecy  cloud  of  escaping  steam,  and  brown 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  121 

lines  of  fencing  lost  in  the  dim  woods  touch 
ing  the  horizon.  Ah !  if  it  could  all  come 
back.  One  might  accept  willingly  any  modi 
fied  conditions  if  prosperity  would  only  come 
to  the  desolated  lands  again ! 

This  discussion  of  John's  possible  future 
took  place  one  evening  upon  the  gallery 
where  Miss  Isabel  loved  to  sit.  While  it  en 
gaged  the  attention  of  the  little  group  to 
whom  it  was  most  momentous,  the  old  ne- 
gress  sat  out  under  the  fig-tree  strangely  si 
lent.  The  low  humming  tune  with  which  she 
usually  solaced  her  hours  of  rest  was  hushed. 
She  sat  motionless,  watching  with  patient  vig 
ilance  every  movement  of  the  speakers. 

By-and-by  she  grew  restless  and  glided  like 
a  dark  shadow  through  the  grounds,  her  eyes 
always  turned  uneasily  towards  the  point  from 
which  the  voices  came.  Her  restlessness  in 
creased  as  time  passed  on. 

It  was  not  until  John  rose  to  go  that  the 
opportunity  for  which  she  seemed  to  have 
waited  presented  itself.  She  hurried  to  the 
door,  and  stood  anxiously  but  respectfully 
ready  to  open  it  for  him. 
i  The  suppressed  excitement  of  her  manner 


122  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

impressed  him.  He  turned  to  speak  to  her. 
In  the  greed  of  happiness  he  desired  even  her 
good  wishes. 

"  Are  you  going  to  wish  me  much  joy,  Ce 
line?" 

"  Ah,  Mars'  John,"  she  said,  with  a  mourn 
ful  shake  of  the  head,  "  how  can  I  ?" 

"  Why,  what  is  the  matter?"  he  said,  slight 
ly  amused  at  her  dejection. 

"  'En't  I  nuss  yo'  sence  yo'  was  teenty  baby, 
an'  don'  yo'  believe  I  wan'  efry  tin'  good  for 
yo'.  Tain't  comin'  dat  way,  Mars'  John.  Will 
yo'  lis'en  to  me  ?  Dar's  sumpin'  wrong.  I 
kin  tell  yo',  but  yo'  won'  believe."  Her  voice 
grew  husky  and  she  broke  down  utterly  as  he 
recoiled  from  her.  There  was  anxiety  and 
even  fright,  yet  persistent  purpose  in  her  set 
face. 

"  Out  with  it,"  he  said,  roughly,  making  an 
impetuous  movement  towards  her. 

"  Yes,  Mars'  John,"  she  replied,  more  firm 
ly,  "  I  must  say  it.  Sumpin'  here  " — striking 
her  heart  with  her  closed  hand — "  tells  me  I'se 
got  to  do  it.  I  'members  far  back.  Sum' 
folks  kin  never  fo'git  if  dey  libs  to  de  Jedge- 
ment-day,  an'  I'se  one  dat  can't  fo'git.  It 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  123 

don'  need  no  sperrit  to  come  back  from  de 
dead  to  tell  me  nothin'.  I  looks  into  sum' 
eyes  an'  I  sees  straight  back,  Lord !  how  far 
back  !"  She  drew  her  breath  heavily,  and  then 
continued,  "  Back  to  de  fount'in  head  whar' 
de  stream  is  clear  an'  whar'  it's  muddy ;  don' 
go  dat  way,  Mars'  John !  It's  mizry," 

"  Is  the  woman  crazy  ?"  said  John,  as  he 
gazed  at  her  in  blank  amazement. 

Glancing  behind  her  as  if  she  feared  space 
itself,  Celine  advanced  a  step  or  two  and  low 
ered  her  voice  to  a  terror-stricken  whisper. 

"  It's  de  eyes.  Dey  can't  deceive  yo',  Mars' 
John.  Lemme  tell  yo'  all  I  sees.  She  is  jus' 
lige  her  cousans." 

"  What  cousins  ?"  said  John. 

"  Dem  what  leef  oppozeet  long  time  'go." 

"  Speak  out  and  tell  me  plainly  what  you 
mean." 

He  listened  for  a  moment  to  her  quivering 
sentences,  and  then  a  torrent  of  indignation 
leaped  from  his  very  soul.  How  dared  she  ? 
She  had  spoken  truly  when  she  said  that  she 
had  nursed  him,  and  tended  him,  and  loved 
him.  Her  fidelity  was  unquestioned  and  his 
hand  was  stayed ;  but  how  dared  she  find 


124  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

words  for  a  suspicion  so  unwarranted,  and 
which  entered  like  poison  into  his  brain?  The 
hot  blood  danced  in  his  veins.  He  did  not 
wait  to  look  again  at  the  old  creature,  who  re 
treated  into  the  darkest  recess  of  the  hall,  par 
alyzed  at  the  deadly  resentment  of  his  first 
glance. 

The  open  air  into  which  he  rushed  felt  like 
a  breath  of  heaven,  and  reason  returned  to 
him.  A  vague  terror  possessed  him  even  as 
he  resented  Celine's  words.  Had  she  a  foun 
dation  for  them  ?  Could  it  be  possible  there 
were  characteristics  patent  to  her  experience 
which  escaped  others  ? 

There  came  suddenly  to  his  memory  a  story 
that  had  once  been  told  him.  All  its  details 
flashed  before  him,  with  the  tragic  sequel 
which  had  always  thrilled  him  with  its  unut 
terable  pathos.  Two  brothers  had  been  high 
ly  esteemed  in  the  social  circles  of  a  neighbor 
ing  city,  which  boasted  alike  of  its  gallant  men 
and  remarkably  beautiful  women.  Educated 
abroad,  introduced  as  the  nephews  of  an  hon 
orable  man,  no  suspicion  of  their  birth  had 
ever  been  aroused.  Coming  one  winter  with 
a  gay  party  to  the  old  St.  Charles  Hotel,  they 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  125 

had  entered  with  zest  into  all  the  amusements 
which  New  Orleans  afforded.  The  first  even 
ing  that  they  presented  themselves  at  the 
French  Opera-house,  an  old  employe  singled 
them  out  of  the  party  just  taking  possession 
of  a  proscenium  box,  and  touching  each  upon 
the  shoulder,  pointed  to  a  gallery  set  apart  for 
a  special  race.  In  the  excitement  consequent 
upon  his  action  the  employe  stood  firm. 

"  It  is  my  business  to  know.  I  am  never 
deceived." 

Investigation  verified  his  assertion.  John 
shuddered  anew  at  the  horror  of  it.  Suppose 
he,  John  Morant,  should  inadvertently  ally 
himself—  His  heart  stood  still.  All  the 
blood  of  his  race  protested  against  the  thought; 
but  even  as  it  rushed  passionately  to  the  de 
nial  of  the  possibility  of  a  fatal  circumstance, 
there  rose  upon  his  mental  vision  a  picture  as 
enchanting  as  ever  seduced  great  Antony.  In 
the  inthralment  of  his  senses  he  could  see 
the  droop  of  a  pretty  head  upon  his  breast, 
and  feel  about  his  neck  the  pressure  of  soft 
arms.  If  fate  should  come  like  that ! 

"  Bamma,"  he  murmured,  "  my  Bamma — 
that  any  one — "  How  tight  that  clasp  seemed 


126  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

about  his  throat !  "  That  any  one  could  come 
near  you  with  a  breath  of — that  deepest  curse 
of  all !  That  would  be,  indeed,  a  gulf  of  de 
spair  !" 

Was  it  because  of  the  neighborhood  that 
there  suddenly  went  sounding  through  his 
brain  the  refrain  of  the  little  taxidermist, 
"  Poor  lill  bird,  he  has  no  mate  ?" 

There  just  beside  him  certainly  was  the 
small  shop.  It  irritated  him  to  see  its  shabby 
window  shining  in  the  moonlight  with  preter 
natural  brightness.  His  thoughts  were  shap 
ing  themselves  in  the  channel  of  his  desires, 
and  it  touched  him  with  a  sense  of  imperti 
nent  intrusion.  Half  vindictively  he  ap 
proached  and  glanced  in  upon  the  dusty  relics. 
The  moonlight  had  exhausted  itself  upon  the 
exterior,  and  there  was  but  the  faintest  radi 
ance  inside.  The  shadowy  outlines  of  birds 
and  reptile  were  just  visible  in  the  dim  light, 
and  silhouetted  themselves  against  the  walls 
in  absurdly  grotesque  forms.  The  little  owl 
spread  himself  out  to  enormous  size,  and  the 
small  alligator  cast  a  crocodilian  shadow  as 
gigantic  as  that  of  some  antediluvian  progen 
itor.  The  duckling  developed  into  a  superb 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  T2/ 

swan,  swaying  up  and  down  on  a  white  sea, 
while  the  coral  branches  reached  out  like  the 
tentacles  of  a  great  octopus.  Strong  emotion 
is  an  accident  in  life  which  Nature  sometimes 
repairs  with  such  insignificant  facts  that  one 
is  tempted  to  wonder  at  the  facility  with  which 
the  jarred  machinery  is  balanced  and  sent  mov 
ing  in  a  reverse  direction.  The  very  exagger 
ation  of  the  inanimate  objects  on  which  John 
gazed,  introduced  an  element  of  burlesque  into 
his  thoughts.  He  laughed  at  their  curious 
distortion  and  then  grew  wrathful  and  con 
temptuous  of  himself.  They  were  no  more 
absurd  than  the  vagaries  of  an  old  negress's 
imagination.  Why  had  he  tormented  himself 
in  listening  to  her  words  ?  A  stern  rebuke 
of  their  fantastic  improbability  would  have 
been  more  fitting  than  all  this  expenditure  of 
feeling.  He  could  have  relied  upon  the  old 
creature's  faithfulness  never  to  so  offend  again. 
What  so  easy,  if  he  ever  seriously  considered 
them,  as  to  prove  their  falsity  ?  Like  a  man 
who  had  thrown  off  the  heavy  burden  of  a 
nightmare  ha  exulted  in  his  awakening.  He 
fixed  his  face  steadily  towards  a  point  where 
brighter  lights  were  beginning  to  be  visible. 


128  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

He  was  coming  up  out  of  the  world  of  shad 
ows. 

And  yet — that  night  was  a  restless  night, 
haunted  by  evil  dreams,  in  which  the  tiger, 
full-grown  and  escaped  from  his  cage,  the 
white  blackbird  slowly  transforming  into  a 
woman,  Bamma,  himself,  and  a  deep,  dark, 
swiftly  descending  current,  bore  unintelligible 
parts — over  all  these  were  ancestral  voices  of 
warning  and  threatening,  and  he  started  once 
from  his  sleep,  exclaiming  aloud, 

"  Descending  towards  the  gulf  !" 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  129 


CHAPTER  IX. 

IT  is  not  to  be  supposed  that  the  words  of 
old  Celine  failed  to  return  again  and  again  to 
John's  mind.  Though  he  encouraged  a  light 
view  of  them,  and  tried  to  avoid  all  trains  of 
thought  leading  to  conclusions  other  than 
those  consonant  with  his  feelings,  he  could 
not  banish  them  at  will.  Like  the  seeds  of 
every  wretched  suspicion  they  sprang  up,  blos 
somed,  fruited,  and  died,  and  sprang  up  anew 
to  torment  him.  Eventually  the  reaction  from 
their  first  impression  was  very  great.  In  the 
sunshine  of  the  following  days  they  once  more 
appeared  absurd,  and  resolved  themselves  into 
the  phantasm  of  an  irresponsible  mind.  One 
fact  alone  he  resented,  that  he  had  been  com 
pelled  to  listen  to  them.  A  chivalrous  desire 
stirred  within  him  to  shield  his  love  from  the 
very  shadow  of  calamitous  thought.  Insinua 
tions  as  baseless  as  the  fabric  of  Celine's  im 
agination  had  touched  others.  To  become 
Sangttince  clarus  had  sometimes  involved  a 
9 


130  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

legal  decision.  The  records  of  years  gone 
by  contained  many  such  cases.  There  were 
others  which  had  been  settled  by  a  higher 
code  upon  the  field  of  honor.  He  knew  which 
code  would  have  suited  his  temperament.  He 
almost  wished  that  the  thoughts  which  trou 
bled  him  had  shaped  themselves  from  a  point 
and  in  a  manner  that  he  could  have  boldly 
challenged  their  truth  and  proved  the  might 
of  his  arm  and  his  affection. 

There  was  one  thing,  however,  within  his 
power,  and  it  was  as  alluring  as  his  vision  of 
triumphant  vindication.  He  could  compen 
sate  by  his  increased  devotion  for  the  one 
breath  of  detraction  which  could  never  reach 
Bamma.  In  the  atmosphere  of  his  love  there 
should  exist  not  even  a  shadow's  shadow. 

The  days  progressed  all  too  slowly  towards 
the  period  when  she  would  own  his  supreme 
protection.  His  words  and  actions  formulated 
but  one  idea  and  became  the  medium  of  but 
one  manifestation,  his  affection  for  her. 

It  was  not  difficult  in  the  course  of  events 
to  acquire  much  knowledge  of  Mr.  Muir's 
claim  to  that  position  in  the  social  world 
which  he  had  assumed.  Little  by  little  it 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  131 

unfolded  itself,  through  a  chance  remark, 
through  the  unreserve  of  friendly  intercourse, 
in  which  the  pardonable  pride  of  the  well-born, 
well-bred  man,  found  expression  giving  clear 
insight  of  his  antecedents,  and  always  con 
vincingly  of  the  worthiness  of  his  claim.  It 
startled  John  on  one  occasion,  when  Mr.  Muir 
was  peculiarly  communicative  of  past  events, 
to  hear  him  say, 

"  My  wife,  you  know,  was  an  adopted  child." 
And  the  subsequent  assertion  was  received 
with  interest :  "  She  was  a  near  relative  of 
her  adopted  mother." 

In  pronouncing  the  name  of  the  family  he 
gave  one  noted  in  the  history  of  a  State  which 
had  honored  it  in  more  than  one  instance  by 
the  highest  official  position  at  its  disposal. 
The  earth  grew  firmer  under  John's  feet  with 
every  advance.  Supported  by  facts  which  he 
carefully  gleaned,  there  appeared  not  a  single 
defect  in  the  structure  upon  which  he  rested 
his  pride  and  faith. 

The  slight  shock,  the  loosening  of  the  sin 
gle  stone  by  the  hands  of  the  old  negress, 
passed  beyond  notice,  with  the  solution  given 
of  her  singular  declaration  that  age  was  tell- 


132  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

ing  at  last  upon  her  and  clouding  her  facul 
ties. 

If  one  could  have  only  seen  the  despairing 
look  with  which  she  turned  away  from  repri 
mand,  and  with  this  assertion, 

"  He  was  warn'.     He  won'  believ'." 

Society  approved  the  approaching  marriage. 
A  feminine  reporter  of  later  date,  industrious 
of  pen  and  lax  of  reserve,  might  have  found 
in  it  elements  commending  themselves  for  in 
teresting  detail.  It  was  commented  upon,  gen 
erally  discussed,  and  produced  an  ever-increas 
ing  demand  of  attention  from  the  class  which 
faithfully  ranges  itself  upon  the  brilliantly 
conventional  side  of  life. 

It  even  aroused  Major  Morant's  old  friends 
to  a  sense  of  its  social  importance.  To  have 
the  quiet  comfort  of  their  Sunday  talks  broken 
in  upon  by  the  major's  interest  in  events  more 
recent  than  those  of  a  quarter  of  a  century 
past,  was,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  trying.  Their 
combined  discontent  manifested  itself  in  the 
reserve  with  which  they  listened  to  him,  and 
the  perfect  freedom  with  which  they  discussed 
him  and  his  new  topic. 

"  I  suppose,"  said    Mr.  Byrne,  as  the  two 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  133 

were  finding  their  way  as  usual  to  the  old 
house  down-town,  "that  every  man  takes  a 
degree  of  comfort  in  seeing  his  son  well  mar 
ried  ;  but  there  seems  to  me  no  reason  why 
he  should  be  aggressively  jubilant  over  it." 

"  You  think  he  ought  to  be  sobered  by  a 
calculation  of  the  chances  against  happiness 
in  the  long-run.  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that 
an  old  bachelor  like  you  would  take  any  other 
view  of  the  '  case.' " 

"  I  have  no  views  at  all  about  it,"  said  Mr. 
Byrne,  "  I  simply  resent  the  intrusion  of  a 
matter  with  the  expectation  that  I  will  join  in 
any  rejoicing  over  it." 

"  You  are  true  to  your  principles,  then,  and 
would  encourage  celibacy  by  refusing  to  sym 
pathize  with  a  departure  from  it." 

"  Nonsense !  I  am  not  against  any  man's 
marrying;  but  if  you  make  a  demand  upon 
my  sympathies  you  will  find  them  engaged  by 
the  other  party  to  the  contract." 

"  There  !"  said  Mr.  Burton,  triumphantly,  "  I 
knew  you  had  some  theory  of  matrimony,  and 
it  develops  itself  in  your  taking  the  woman's 
side  of  the  question.  What  will  happen  next  ? 
The  chances  are  that  your  sympathies  will 


134  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

some  day  outweigh  your  discretion  and  make 
a  married  man  of  you." 

Notwithstanding  their  long,  intimate  asso 
ciation,  Mr.  Burton's  jests  sometimes  jarred 
upon  his  friend.  This  time  it  made  him  glare 
almost  fiercely  into  Mr.  Burton's  mocking  face, 
and  the  good-fellowship  of  years  might  have 
been  marred ;  but  just  then  the  door  of  the 
old  house  before  which  they  had  paused, 
opened  more  quickly  than  usual  in  answer  to 
their  summons,  and  Miss  Isabel's  pathetic  face 
dawned  upon  them. 

"  For  the  first  time  in  all  these  years,"  she 
explained,  "old  Celine  is  unable  to  attend  to 
her  duties,  so  it  falls  upon  me  to  be  house 
maid." 

Mr.  Burton  made  a  gallant  speech,  in  which 
he  commented  upon  the  very  pleasing  substi 
tute  ;  but  Mr.  Byrne  said  nothing.  It  was  en 
tirely  inexplicable  that  he  should  flush  to  the 
very  crown  of  his  venerable  bald  head.  Per 
haps  it  was  the  result  of  that  sharp,  quick  in 
dignation  against  Burton.  He  could  not  an 
alyze  it,  but  felt  its  momentary  discomfort,  and 
hastened  forward  to  meet  his  old  friend  Mo- 
rant  with  more  than  usual  eagerness. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  135 

The  wedding  morning  came.  There  was 
an  early  promise  of  unclouded  skies,  but  later 
on  a  pale  gray  mist  crept  over  the  sun.  It 
came  up  slowly,  deepening  gradually  into  that 
darker  tint  which  made  the  weatherwise  scan 
the  heavens  for  one  little  patch  of  blue  to  en 
courage  a  hope  of  brightness  by-and-by.  Now 
and  then  a  heavier  vapory  mass  was  caught 
in  the  brisker  undercurrent  blowing  up  from 
the  east,  and  drifted  swiftly  across  the  face  of 
the  heavens.  Impalpable  shadows  flitted  over 
the  gray  walls  of  the  church  on  the  great 
central  thoroughfare,  and,  quick  and  tremulous 
as  a  swallow's  wing,  half  smothered  for  a  mo 
ment  the  light  of  the  Gothic  windows.  Pretty 
girls  wreathing  the  chancel  with  flowers,  looked 
anxious  at  the  ominous  obscurity,  and  smiled 
when  the  shadows  lifted.  The  wedding-bell  of 
flowers,  deftly  hung  in  the  green  arch,  occa 
sionally  swung  lightly  to  and  fro  in  a  gust  of 
wind  that  swept  down  the  aisles.  Then,  when 
the  pretty  girls  had  finished  their  pleasant 
task,  and  at  the  door  turned  from  a  last  linger 
ing  look  at  the  artistic  result  to  a  view  of  low 
ering  clouds  without,  many  shrugs  and  "  ahs  !" 
and  "  ohs !"  filled  up  a  measure  of  regret. 


136  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

Darker  grew  the  clouds  even  to  the  mo 
mentous  hour  which  was  to  usher  in  the  bridal 
train.  The  big  clock  at  the  Jesuit  Fathers 
not  far  away  sounded  the  hour  clearly  and 
distinctly.  There  was  a  rush  for  good  places 
of  observation  in  the  aristocratic  church,  and 
many  unbidden  guests  gloried  in  the  finest 
gallery  seats.  From  that  point  came  the  sound 
of  movements  somewhat  restless,  and  a  mur 
mur  of  voices  very  pronounced  ;  but  this  lack 
of  decorum  was  counterbalanced  by  the  re 
pose  of  mien  which  characterized  those  in  the 
body  of  the  church.  There  was  a  flutter  of 
fans,  the  nodding  of  plumed  bonnets,  and  then 
the  grand  swell  of  the  organ. 

Close  by  the  door  stood  old  Celine,  tall, 
slender,  impassive,  her  turbaned  head  bent  in 
an  attitude  of  attention,  her  great  circular  gold 
earrings  gleaming  against  her  swarthy  skin 
and  vibrating  with  every  breath  of  the  form 
otherwise  so  still. 

The  not  too  well  repressed  buzz  of  excite 
ment  increased  for  a  moment. 

A  crowd  upon  the  banquet  watched  a  line 
of  carriages  come  and  depart,  until  one,  more 
important  than  all  the  rest,  became  an  object 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  137 

of  interest.  It  swept  up  and  stopped.  One 
heard  the  click  of  the  open  door,  and  then  its 
heavy  closing. 

"  Ah  !"  The  accent  of  consternation  was 
distinct,  as  a  heavy  shower  of  raindrops  fell 
and  dispersed  the  lookers-on,  but  not  before 
they  had  caught  glimpses  of  snow-white  dra 
peries  and  the  flash  of  jewels,  and  they  were 
satisfied.  A  pause  within  the  darker  vesti 
bule,  and  then  full  upon  the  bride  streamed 
the  lights  of  aisle  and  chancel. 

Old  Celine  bent  forward  eagerly.  There 
stole  over  her  face  a  sudden,  strange  look  of 
awe ;  for  upon  the  veil  which  fell  in  soft  folds 
to  the  hem  of  the  bridal  robe,  were  two  or 
three  great  drops  like  shining  tears. 

"  De  good  Marster  knows,"  whispered  she, 
and  once  more  her  dark  face  resumed  its  calm 
immobility. 

A  crescendo  of  the  grand  wedding-march 
preceded  the  solemn  hush  when  the  minister 
uplifted  his  voice.  No  response  came  to  the 
grand  charge  which  rolled  sonorously  from 
his  lips ;  but  far  back  against  the  wall  the  old 
negress  stood  with  folded  arms,  and  shook 
her  head  slowly  from  right  to  left  and  from 


138  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

left  to  right,  until  the  great  earrings  trembled 
and  shone  like  circles  of  fire. 

Late  into  the  night  the  garden  district 
echoed  to  the  roll  of  carriages.  Inside  one 
brilliantly  illumined  house  the  murmur  of  con 
gratulations  rose,  mingled  with  an  undercur 
rent  of  remark,  sometimes  clear  and  unre 
served,  sometimes  whispered  low,  and  made 
more  impressive  by  the  pantomimic  move 
ment  of  shoulder  and  brow. 

Never  had  society  made  a  finer  display,  ex 
cept,  perhaps,  in  the  memory  of  the  gracious 
Creole  matron,  who  recalled  assemblages  un 
surpassed  in  the  spirit  of  gallantry  and  unique 
in  deportment.  Miss  Murray,  smiling  encour 
agingly  into  the  face  of  her  junior  escort,  left 
an  impression  of  youthfulness  which  made  one 
doubt  the  accuracy  of  statements  which  par 
ticularized  the  number  of  seasons  which  had 
passed  over  her  blond  beauty.  Within  an 
open  door- way  posed  the  tall,  impecunious 
young  gentleman  who  had  been  heard  to  de 
clare  that  society  cost  him  nothing  beyond  the 
new  collar  in  which  he  invariably  appeared 
out  of  compliment  to  those  who  invited  him 
to  dinner,  concert,  or  ball.  The  fatality  which 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  139 

had  always  attended  his  efforts  to  establish 
himself  matrimonially,  seemed  greater  by  way 
of  contrast  to  the  wonderful  success  of  one 
whom  he  regarded  as  no  more  meritorious 
than  himself.  His  unlimited  assurance  ena 
bled  him  to  confront  resignedly  some  half  a 
dozen  reminders  of  his  failures,  but  another's 
success  caused  him  a  pang. 

One  would  not  be  likely  to  overlook  among 
all  the  guests  John  Morant's  warmest  friend, 
Dr,  Ed.  Dickson.  His  handsome  face  and 
polished  manners  induced  many  to  forget  the 
erratic  ideas  with  which  he  was  beginning  to 
be  credited ;  though  it  was  hard  for  acknowl 
edged  beauties  to  forgive  the  persistency  with 
which  he  made  himself  agreeable  to  a  gentle 
girl  who  looked  out  from  a  shadowy  corner 
of  the  beautiful  rooms  with  glances  which  be 
trayed  an  experience  less  varied  and  extensive 
than  Miss  Murray's. 

In  a  snug  recess  a  group  of  three  elderly 
gentlemen  seemed  to  have  become  oblivious 
of  the  gayety  on  every  side,  and,  incidental  to 
this,  one  heard  the  kindly  tones  of  Major  Mo- 
rant,  the  mocking  laugh  of  Mr.  Burton,  and 
the  vehement  assertion  of  Mr.  Byrne. 


140  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  The  world  will  not  go  all  wrong  because 
a  few  enthusiasts  do." 

"  Byrne  rests  his  hopes  with  the  feminine 
element." 

"  I  do.  When  it  comes  to  sustaining  every 
honorable  tradition  of  our  race,  we  may  rely 
upon  woman.  She  is  the  great  conservator 
of  man's  wisdom.  When  he  shall  have  broken 
down  every  barrier  which  the  accumulated  ex 
perience  of  years  has  erected  to  preserve  a 
people  from  degeneracy,  you  will  find  her  hold 
ing  with  blind  instinct  to  the  mighty  restrain 
ing  influences  of  the  past." 

The  young  girl  in  white,  passing  at  that 
moment,  comprehended  nothing  of  the  old 
man's  speech,  the  echo  only  of  the  last  sen 
tence  reached  her ;  but  something  in  its  tone 
stirred  her  and  brought  a  sweet  smile  and  dim 
ples  into  view,  which  even  Miss  Murray  would 
have  acknowledged  were  pleasant  to  see. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  141 


CHAPTER  X. 

IN  the  old  house  down-town,  Miss  Isabel  sat 
and  sighed  more  deeply  than  ever.  She  had 
desired  a  brilliant  marriage  for  her  brother, 
but  she  had  not  counted  upon  the  weakening 
of  old  ties  in  the  strengthening  of  new  ones. 

Visits  to  the  beautiful  new  home  up-town 
brought  her  no  serenity.  John's  new-found 
happiness,  in  which  sisterly  love  and  affection 
had  little  share,  could  not  be  witnessed  with 
out  a  jealous  pang.  The  old  name  was  once 
more  influential,  but  its  glory  was  circum 
scribed.  In  the  days  gone  by,  each  member 
of  the  old  family,  even  to  the  remotest  kins 
man,  had  gained  consideration  in  the  light  of 
its  prosperity ;  but  the  world  somehow  seemed 
to  have  narrowed  the  limits  of  family  influ 
ence  since  that  time.  Miss  Isabel  lost  some 
illusions,  and  found  she  had  dreamed  some  ro 
mantic  dreams  of  a  revival  which  was  never 
to  be  realized.  Externals  had  been  of  second 
ary  consideration  while  she  had  been  filled 


142  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

with  the  importance  of  her  inner  life.  Her 
dreams  and  aspirations  had  overshadowed  the 
poverty  of  her  surroundings.  The  moment 
ous  event  of  the  wedding  disturbed  the  pla 
cidity  of  her  musings.  No  little  maid  of  six 
teen  could  have  conjured  up  a  more  brilliant 
picture  of  social  triumph  than  did  Miss  Isabel 
as  she  tenderly  patted  the  thin  locks  about 
her  temples,  and  smoothed  out  her  unusual 
flounces  preparatory  to  re-entering  the  world 
upon  that  occasion.  She  went  forth  with  the 
elevating  consciousness  of  the  finer  clay  of 
which  she  was  fashioned,  and  rejoicing  in  the 
very  superior  quality  of  it.  She  returned  with 
a  sense  of  failure  in  the  general  purpose  of 
her  existence.  One  fact  impressed  itself  upon 
her.  She  had  not  slipped  quietly  away  from 
the  world,  as  she  had  supposed,  just  for  a  lit 
tle  while,  but  it  had  slipped  quietly  away  from 
her.  She  belonged  to  the  past.  The  fossil 
izing  process  had  already  begun,  and  she  was 
taking  her  place  in  a  historic  period. 

As  she  mingled  with  the  unaccustomed 
crowd,  her  sense  of  remoteness  increased  with 
each  new  addition  to  the  throng.  She  shrank 
visibly  from  those  who  offered  congratulations 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  143 

in  high-pitched  voices  that  'grated  on  her  ear. 
She  looked  in  vain  for  the  old-time  courteous 
deference  of  men  towards  the  gentler  sex. 
High-bred,  modest  demeanor  counted  as  noth 
ing  in  an  assemblage  whose  vim  and  energy 
confused  her.  Instinct,  education,  tempera 
ment,  were  all  at  variance  with  the  universal 
"  go  "  of  this  new  world.  In  the  utter  revolu 
tion  of  thought  and  manners,  the  actuating 
principle  appeared  to  be  a  determination  to 
grasp  the  substance  of  things  unmindful  of 
forms. 

The  very  types  of  beauty  which  Miss  Isabel 
had  once  admired  had  disappeared.  The  slen 
der,  delicate  faces,  framed  by  bands  of  dark, 
satiny  hair,  and  soft,  bright  eyes  shining  over 
the  tips  of  feathered  fans,  in  the  absolute  cer 
tainty  of  their  modest  attractiveness,  were  no 
longer  to  be  seen.  The  observer's  eye  was 
arrested  by  color  rather  than  outline  or  ex 
pression.  There  were  heads  crowned  by 
strange  golden -colored  hair,  massed  in  won 
derful  fashion  to  catch  every  glimmer  of  light 
upon  the  metallic-looking  strands,  and  brill- 
iant-hued  complexions  that  were  climatic  sole 
cisms. 


144  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

Nothing  was  familiar.  Nothing?  When 
her  eyes  were  weary  and  her  heart  still  wearier 
of  the  unwontedness  of  it  all,  when  she  had 
secured  a  secluded  corner  towards  which  she 
had  gravitated  from  the  beginning,  some  one 
came  and  sat  down  quietly  beside  her.  Miss 
Isabel  had  always  looked  upon  Mr.  Byrne  as 
a  very  aged  man,  separated  from  her  interest 
by  an  infinitude  of  years.  She  wondered  why 
their  number  seemed  suddenly  to  have  dimin 
ished.  He  was  old  and  wrinkled,  and  his 
nervous  hands  caressed  a  cheek  as  leathery 
as  a  mummified  Egyptian's;  but  he  was  near 
er  her  ideal  world  than  the  bustling  youth 
about  her,  and  she  beamed  upon  him  in  a  way 
that  sent  a  warm  glow  to  the  old  bachelor's 
heart. 

In  the  circumstances  which  had  hitherto 
surrounded  her,  there  had  never  been  any  rea 
son  why  Mr.  Byrne  should  have  made  any 
thing  more  than  a  slight  effort  to  greet  her 
kindly.  It  occurred  to  him  as  he  saw  her  sit 
ting  apart,  the  very  mildest-looking  of  wall 
flowers,  that  some  small  attention  was  due  to 
the  daughter  of  his  old  friend,  and  he  ad 
vanced  grimly  to  the  duty. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  145 

Her  glance  aroused  a  responsive  enthusiasm 
astonishing  to  himself.  He  did  a  thing  which, 
when  he  afterwards  reflected  upon  it,  filled 
him  with  profound  amazement.  He  chatted 
with  Miss  Isabel  the  greater  part  of  the  even 
ing,  and  found  it  interesting.  As  for  Miss 
Isabel,  she  rallied  for  a  while  from  her  deep 
dejection,  under  the  inspiring  realization  that 
the  latent  power  of  fascination,  of  which  every 
woman  holds  herself  possessed,  had  promptly 
developed  itself,  even  though  in  a  very  curious 
direction ;  but  still  she  went  home  in  a  very 
melancholy  mood. 

The  old  quiet  ways  became  unendurable, 
because  they  were  robbed  of  the  dreams  which 
had  brightened  them.  The  house  was  a  ter 
rible  solitude.  In  silent  dismay  Celine  watched 
her  mistress  wander  about  like  some  disturbed 
spirit.  Restlessness  grew  with  the  advancing 
days. 

One  morning  the  woman  in  the  green-and- 
white  cottage  over  the  way  was  astounded  to 
see  all  the  shutters  of  the  old  Morant  house 
thrown  open,  and  God's  sunshine  entering  of 
its  own  free  will.  She  could  see  this  much, 
but  she  could  not  follow  the  bright  beam  be- 
10 


146  TOWARDS   THE  GULF. 

yond  the  window  ledges,  and  see  it  creeping 
very  softly  at  first,  as  if  afraid  of  a  chilly  wel 
come,  and  then  more  confidently,  until  it  fairly 
rioted  upon  the  mouldy  walls  and  moth-eaten 
.carpets. 

Miss  Isabel  shuddered  a  little  at  its  intensi 
ty,  and  then  her  mild  face  settled  into  a  per 
ceptibly  determined  expression,  as  if  she  were 
saying  to  herself,  "  It  has  come  in  and  it  shall 
stay." 

The  unusual  illumination  waked  Major  Mo- 
rant  from  a  doze  in  his  old  arm-chair. 

"  Bless  me,  my  child  !"  he  exclaimed,  "  what 
are  you  doing?  Isn't  it  very  imprudent  to 
open  the  windows  and  let  in  so  much  air? 
We  will  all  be  sick." 

"  I  think  not,  papa.  Why  should  we  be 
shut  up  with  mould  and  damp  and  mildew? 
Others  let  in  the  sunshine,  why  not  we  ?" 

He  looked  at  her  helplessly.  "Why,  my 
daughter,  we  have  been  very  well  and  happy 
in  the  old  way,  haven't  we  ?" 

She  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  respond 
ed  cheerily,  "  Yes,  papa,  but  we  are  going  to 
improve  upon  it." 

There  was  no  help  for  it.     The  major  rec- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  147 

ognized  the  development  of  a  new  force  in  his 
meek  daughter,  and  permitted  himself  to  be 
led  accordingly.  She  quieted  his  fears  and 
moved  him  out  of  the  draughts. 

The  bright  sunshine  stirred  her  as  it  had 
never  done  before.  As  she  paused  thought 
fully  in  its  shining  pathway  it  prompted  her 
to  an  unusual  proceeding.  She  turned  sud 
denly  and  stole  timidly  up-stairs,  as  if  the  very 
walls  had  power  to  rebuke  her.  She  came 
down  again  bonneted  and  gloved  for  a  walk. 
Her  head-gear  was  ordinarily  unobtrusive,  the 
strings  of  her  small  bonnet  always  tied  with 
dainty  care  under  the  very  centre  of  the  one 
dimple  in  her  face  which  time  would  always 
spare  her.  Something,  however,  had  given  an 
air  of  self-assertion  to  a  certain  butterfly-bow 
set  on  the  very  top  of  this  bonnet,  whose 
forked  ends  caught  the  breeze  and  fluttered 
out  defiantly.  One  looking  at  it  would  have 
said  that  its  possessor  could  be  very  daring  if 
convinced  of  the  necessity  of  progress. 

The  object  of  Miss  Isabel's  expedition  did 
not  seem  at  first  to  be  specially  defined  in  her 
own  mind,  for  she  paused  occasionally  as  if  in 
doubt.  There  was  a  flush  of  excitement  upon 


148  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

her  cheek,  and  a  trembling  smile  hovered 
about  the  tightly  compressed  lips. 

At  last  she  moved  on  resolutely.  Her  way 
was  certainly  clear  before  her.  She  passed 
street  after  street,  then  an  untended  square, 
dark,  cool,  and  full  of  shadowy  resting-places 
under  the  trees,  a  broken,  rusty,  iron  fence 
shutting  out  the  trespassers  who  never  came 
to  disturb  its  repose. 

Beyond  the  square  the  streets  became  nar 
rower  and  more  crooked,  one  especially,  reach 
ing  a  certain  point,  curved  away  to  the  left  for 
the  distance  of  three  or  more  lots,  before  it 
continued  on  its  first  course.  The  central 
house  in  the  curve  was  taller  than  its  neigh 
bors,  and  had  the  air  of  leaning  with  the  street 
as  it  swept  away  from  it.  In  fact  the  house 
had  made  such  an  effort  to  go  with  the  street 
that  it  had  quite  parted  company  with  the 
door-step,  which  still  held  its  ground  inviting 
ly  firm,  notwithstanding  the  yawning  crevice 
above  it.  The  step  was  as  clean  as  a  scrub 
bing  with  yellow  ochre  could  make  it,  and 
moist  bits  here  and  there  attested  that  the 
work  upon  it  had  been  recent. 

The  new  washed  walls  and  general  air  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  149 

smartness  encouraged  the  belief  that  the  out 
side  world  was  of  more  importance  to  its  in 
mates  than  to  those  of  less  pretentious  houses 
adjoining  it.  Curtains  of  white  embroidered 
muslin,  with  ruffles  fluted  in  most  approved 
style,  hung  over  the  half -sash  doors,  while 
across  the  wooden  shutter  swung  back  to  dis 
close  them  was  a  square  of  tin  painted  black. 
On  this,  in  white  letters,  Miss  Isabel  saw  a 
name  and  an  announcement  of  profession — 


CLEMENCE. 

COIFFEUSE. 


It  was  what  she  had  been  looking  for,  and 
now,  standing  before  it,  she  half  repented  her 
coming. 

As  insignificant  as  is  the  sum  demanded 
for  a  daily  attendance,  and  as  necessary  as  the 
hair- dresser  is  to  the  average  Creole  gentle 
woman,  never  since  her  far-off  youth  had  Miss 
Isabel  dared  to  indulge  in  the  services  of  one ; 
but  now  with  the  memory  of  the  marvellous 
heads  which  the  fashion  ruled  should  impress 
the  beholder,  the  economic  instincts  of  years 


I5O  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

failed  to  check  the  rising  desire  to  imitate 
them. 

There  was  no  bell  visible,  so  Miss  Isabel 
tapped  gently  at  the  door.  It  was  immediate 
ly  opened  by  a  genteel-looking  woman — one 
might  say  a  uniformly  black  woman,  for  there 
was  no  difference  of  hue,  scarcely  a  difference 
of  shade  between  her  ebony  face  and  the  deep 
mourning  garments  she  wore.  Miss  Isabel 
hesitated  a  moment,  but  the  woman  opened 
the  door  very  wide,  and  so  inviting  was  the 
interior  that  she  entered  at  once. 

There  was  fresh  matting  on  the  floor ;  a  rug 
representing  a  hunting  scene,  in  which  my 
lady's  snow-white  steed  appeared  somewhat 
aged,  but  evidently  well  taken  care  of;  a  good 
broad  mirror,  with  a  shelf  before  it,  on  which 
were  combs,  hair-pins  of  every  length  and 
shape,  toilet -waters,  and  good  smelling  pow 
ders  ;  and  in  front  of  that  a  pleasant  chair,  pro 
tected  by  an  immaculate  apron  tied  behind  its 
back. 

"  Is  this  Clemence  ?"  inquired  Miss  Isabel, 
in  French. 

Replying  with  most  excellent  accent,  the 
woman  declared  that  mademoiselle  had  called 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  151 

her  by  her  proper  name,  and  she  would  be 
happy  to  wait  upon  her. 

"  You  have  been  recommended  to  me  as  an 
excellent  hair-dresser,"  said  Miss  Isabel. 

"  Does  mademoiselle  wish  to  try  me  this 
morning?"  asked  the  woman. 

Miss  Isabel  replied  in  the  affirmative,  and 
almost  before  she  could  realize  it  her  bonnet 
with  its  daring  bow  was  laid  aside,  and  with 
it  went  some  of  her  self-assertion.  She  felt 
now  that  she  would  be  as  wax  in  the  hands 
prepared  to  renew  her  youth. 

"  You  are  just  in  time,  mademoiselle.  I  go 
soon  to  one  of  my  ladies,  but  I  will  comb  you 
nicely." 

"  You  are  much  employed,  I  suppose  ?"  said 
Miss  Isabel.. 

"  Yes,  mademoiselle ;  I  have  ladies  all  over 
the  city,  up  -  town  and  down  -  town,  who  will 
have  no  one  to  comb  them  but  me." 

"  Do  you  speak  English  as  well  as  French  ?" 

"Yes.  miss,"  she  answered,  dropping  at  once 
into  that  language,  and  speaking  with  equally 
good  accent.  "  My  madam  gave  me  good  ad 
vantages.  It  is  for  her  that  I  wear  black.  She 
had  me  taught  my  trade,  and  I  travelled  with 


152  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

her  very  much.  We  were  in  London  and  in 
Paris  for  a  long  time." 

"  You  are  very  expert,"  said  Miss  Isabel,  ad 
miring  the  ease  and  even  grace  with  which 
she  performed  her  task.  The  hands  which 
twisted  and  turned  and  pinned  the  dark  hair 
were  small  and  well  modelled,  though  as  black 
as  flesh  could  possibly  be. 

"  Yes,  miss ;  I  minded  well,  and  people  al 
ways  get  along  if  they  mind  what  they  are 
about.  But  I  was  lucky,  too,  for  my  madam 
was  a  fine  lady.  My  husband,  he  came  from 
Virginia,  miss,  and  knows  a  great  deal,  if  he 
is  black — blacker  than  I  am,  if  you  can  believe 
that.  He  thinks  I  know  how  to  work,  and  he 
often  tells  me — he  does,  indeed,  miss — '  Clem- 
ence,  you've  had  a  heap  of  advantages,  and  it 
all  comes  of  belonging  to  quality  people.'  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  miss,  I  never  comb  for  any 
one  else.  I  know  them  as  soon  as  I  see  them." 
Pausing  in  the  progress  of  rolling  a  thin  lock 
into  a  puff  of  extraordinary  dimensions,  the 
woman  continued,  with  a  smile  which  showed 
a  row  of  teeth  like  porcelain, 

"  Mademoiselle  should  let  me  do  this  for 
her  always.  She  looks  handsome  like  that," 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1 53 

and  she  pointed  to  a  reflection  in  the  mirror 
where  Miss  Isabel  appeared  so  like  the  won 
derful  women  of  the  new  regime  that  her  heart 
gave  a  great  throb  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 
She  could  not  resist  the  impression  of  loss  as 
well  as  gain.  For  years  she  had  confided  her 
troubles  to  the  reflection  of  a  meek,  demure, 
gentle  face,  with  well-brushed  bandeaux  hold 
ing  rigidly  in  check  the  ears  which  heard  noth 
ing  of  the  outside  world  or  of  the  prodigious 
freedom  in  store  for  her  sex,  and  now  it  was 
gone.  It  was  a  companion  which  she  had  lost. 
The  gain  was  something  marvellous.  The 
bandeaux  had  been  lifted,  two  light  wings 
seemed  to  have  been  added  just  over  the  great 
organs  of  causality,  and  Miss  Isabel  was  in 
clined  to  believe  that  she  was  prepared  for  a 
great  flight  from  all  trouble,  rather  than  for 
any  daily  conference  with  it.  The  woman's 
flattery,  too,  gave  her  a  sense  of  lightness.  It 
was  long  since  she  had  been  told  that  she  was 
handsome •„  but  it  was  evident  to  her  own  eyes 
that  under  Clemence's  deft  fingers  she  had 
grown  younger  and  handsomer.  She  rose 
from  the  chair  thoroughly  satisfied  with  her 
self  and  Clemence. 


154  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

She  did  not  at  once  direct  her  steps  towards 
home,  but  following  the  street  as  it  turned 
away  from  the  hair-dresser's,  walked  some  dis 
tance,  stopping  at  last  before  a  green  gate  set 
in  high  white  palings.  A  small  grating  just 
above  an  old-fashioned  knocker  enabled  her 
to  see  into  the  flower-garden  beyond.  ,  A  net 
work  of  vines  fringed  the  upper  edge  of  the 
fence,  and  ran  luxuriantly  over  the  arch  of  the 
gate-way.  A  little  bell  tinkled  as  the  green 
gate  yielded  to  her  touch,  and  an  odor  of  fresh 
cut  flowers  came  floating  out  with  the  current 
of  air  that  passed  through  the  open  way. 

The  flowers  were  there  in  all  their  delicious 
dewiness.  Upon  benches  either  side  of  a  long 
arbor  were  baskets  full  of  roses,  half  hidden 
in  a  mass  of  sheltering  foliage.  These  were 
flanked  by  huge  tied  structures,  meaningless 
in  their  placid,  full-blown  rotundity,  but  help 
ing  to  fill  the  air  with  delicate  perfume.  There 
were  beds  of  damp  gray  moss  for  violets,  and 
all  the  small,  frail  things  that  exhale  a  fra 
grance. 

At  the  end  of  the  arbor  sat  the  presiding 
genius  of  all  this  loveliness — a  decrepit  old 
woman,  whose  feeble  hands  shook  with  nerv- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1 55 

ousness  as  she  sorted  the  sweet-smelling  blos 
soms.  She  hailed  her  coming  customer  with 
a  nod  of  satisfaction,  and  a  smile  that  would 
have  done  credit  to  an  arch  coquette. 

"  Make  your  choice,  mademoiselle.  They 
are  all  fresh  and  fine." 

Miss  Isabel  walked  softly  among  the  flow 
ers,  inhaling  with  delight  this  pure,  sweet 
breath  of  Nature.  She  found  it  difficult  to 
make  a  selection  among  all  the  beauties  that 
smiled  up  at  her,  and  with  the  shrewd  old 
woman  at  her  side  prompting  and  encourag 
ing  every  fancy,  it  was  no  wonder  she  left  the 
garden  with  full  hands.  The  few  people  she 
met  gazed  at  her  lovely  burden,  but  there 
were  no  looks  of  curiosity  to  annoy  her. 
Theirs  was  a  religion  of  flowers,  and  the  bear 
er  of  them  a  supposed  votary  to  some  shrine 
of  the  Holy  Mother.  She  stopped  once  on 
her  way  home  at  a  place  where  small  varieties 
were  sold.  A  rabais  shop,  the  people  around 
would  have  called  it. 

"  It  is  mademoiselle's  fete  n'est-ce-pas  ?"  said 
the  dark-eyed,  slender  shop-girl,  as  she  neat 
ly  wrapped  the  purchase  and  cast  admiring 
glances  at  the  flowers. 


156  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  No,"  responded  Miss  Isabel,  with  some 
asperity,  as  she  hurried  away.  Fete  days  had 
not  been  remembered  with  her  for  many  a 
season.  Her  heart  smote  her  for  being  cross 
at  such  a  trifle,  but  how  could  she  help  being 
sensitive  to  a  suggestion  which  is  never  pleas 
ant  to  any  woman  whose  years  have  begun  to 
be  numbered  by  decades,  with  additional  nu 
merals. 

The  day  was  in  its  fullest  splendor  when 
she  reached  home,  and  fatigue  overpowered 
her.  It  was  not  until  some  hours  later  that 
she  rose  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  purpose  which 
had  fixed  itself  in  her  mind. 

She  decorated  the  parlors.  Flowers  here, 
flowers  there,  flowers  everywhere.  When  her 
work  was  completed,  it  was  droll  enough  to 
see  the  change  in  the  rooms. 

"  Missy  done  gone  crezzie,  fo'  true,"  was 
Celine's  muttered  comment. 

That  opinion  would  have  been  strength 
ened  if  she  had  followed  Miss  Isabel  to  her 
own  room  and  witnessed  her  untie  with  trem 
bling  fingers  the  little  package  brought  from 
the  rabais  shop.  There  was  first  a  yellow 
wrapper  to  be  taken  off,  then  a  soft  covering 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  157 

of  white  tissue-paper,  and  then  a  rosy-tinted 
something  unfolded  itself. 

It  was  a  pink  necktie ! 

Against  Miss  Isabel's  dark,  sallow  face  it 
was  frightful ;  but  this  did  not  disturb  her  as 
she  complacently  tied  it,  and  arranged  the 
flowing  ends  exactly  to  balance  each  other 
either  side  of  a  prim  bow.  It  is  doubtful  if 
the  question  of  its  becomingness  entered  her 
mind  at  all.  She  had  formulated  her  dreams 
according  to  new  light  and  the  new  philoso 
phy,  and  it  was  in  harmony  with  the  departure 
she  had  taken.  She  was  well  satisfied  with 
the  effect. 

In  the  parlor,  swept  and  garnished  as  it  had 
not  been  for  years,  she  took  her  seat  and  be 
gan  weaving  anew  the  web  of  her  life.  She 
was  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  small  domestic 
spider  waiting  the  unwary  fly.  It  was  a  strange 
coincidence,  but  that  evening  at  precisely  half- 
past  seven  o'clock  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
front  door  which  startled  Celine.  There  was 
a  familiar  sound  in  the  rap  which  made  her 
pause  a  moment  to  run  over  in  her  mind  the 
days  of  the  week,  and  finally  to  go  to  the  door 


158  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

with  a  confused  sense  of  disorder  in  the  re 
lation  of  events. 

She  ushered  in  Mr.  Byrne. 

At  this  moment  Miss  Isabel's  face  vied  in 
depth  of  color  with  her  necktie.  Mr.  Byrne's 
expressed  a  corresponding  embarrassment — 
seeing  which,  Miss  Isabel  smiled  serenely,  and 
taking  her  seat  at  a  limited  distance,  contin 
ued  to  weave  her  little  web. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  159 


CHAPTER  XL 

RUINED  cabins,  broken  fences,  and  untilled 
fields  were  the  prevailing  features  of  the  once 
beautiful  and  flourishing  plantation  owned  by 
the  Morants.  The  dwelling-  house,  with  its 
broad,  sloping- roofed  galleries,  had  offered  a 
brave  resistance  to  weather  and  water;  for 
the  overflow  of  the  great  river  had  deluged  it 
more  than  once,  leaving  its  sign  in  the  high- 
water  marks  upon  its  walls.  About  the  house 
were  acres  of  Bermuda  grass,  whose  rank  lux 
uriance  overmastered  every  other  growth,  and 
formed  a  thick  carpet  of  verdure  even  under 
the  shade  of  the  huge  live-oaks  and  pecans 
which  held  their  own  against  time  and  acci 
dent.  The  grass  grew  green  to  the  very  edge 
of  the  bayou  in  front,  whose  low  banks  were 
bordered  by  a  hedge-like  growth  of  graceful, 
bending  willows.  A  short  distance  below,  the 
bayou  widened  out  into  a  small  lake,  which 
was  covered  by  the  broad  leaves  of  a  species 
q^  water-lily,  whose  seed-vessels  contained  a 


l6o  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

nut  upon  which  in  the  fall  and  early  winter 
countless  thousands  of  wild -ducks  came  to 
feed. 

To  the  right  of  the  dwelling  stood  the  old 
quarters,  two  long  rows  of  cabins  fast  falling 
into  decay.  A  few  of  these  were  occupied  by 
negroes,  whose  local  attachment  had  been 
strong  enough  to  hold  them  to  the  old  place 
through  every  vicissitude. 

This  little  band  of  laborers,  living  from 
hand  to  mouth,  produced  in  a  thriftless  sort 
of  way  from  the  genial  soil  enough  to  satisfy 
the  present  need,  and  left  the  future  to  take 
care  of  itself. 

The  patriarch  of  this  flock  was  Uncle  Dan'l, 
an  aged  negro,  whose  right  to  rule  was  never 
disputed  by  the  younger  men  and  women. 
He  held  them  in  subjection  by  the  exercise  of 
supreme  ecclesiastical  power.  A  character  of 
this  kind  belongs  to  every  ebony-faced  com 
munity.  His  importance  is  in  proportion  to 
his  ability  to  stimulate  religious  frenzy.  Once 
established  as  the  fountain-head  of  it,  his  in 
fluence  is  boundless,  his  authority  unques 
tioned,  and  his  conduct  privileged  from  error. 

In  days  gone  by,  an  aristocratic  distinction 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  l6l 

separated  certain  families  upon  the  place.  Vir 
ginia  negroes,  who  came  by  inheritance  from 
one  branch  of  the  Morants,  held  themselves 
superior  to  the  South  Carolina  connection, 
and  infinitely  so  to  the  few  French  Creole,  or 
"gumbo  niggers,"  as  they  were  contemptu 
ously  called,  who  had  been  brought  from  the 
southern  part  of  the  State.  A  marked  differ 
ence  was  discernible  in  the  manners  and  dia 
lect  of  each,  and  the  greater  excellence  cer 
tainly  rested  with  those  from  old  Virginia. 
The  South  Carolina  negro  had  long  since 
gone  in  search  of  new  fields,  the  Creole  negro 
had  sought  his  Mecca,  the  Crescent  City,  but 
the  Virginia  element  clung  to  the  old  planta 
tion. 

The  conservative  spirit  of  the  Old  Domin 
ion  thoroughly  influenced  their  fate,  and  they 
failed  to  take  advantage  of  their  freedom  to  em 
igrate,  preferring  rather  to  suffer  want  at  the 
old  hearth-stone  than  to  enjoy  fulness  in  exile. 

It  was  with  some  misgivings  that  Uncle 
Dan'l  received  the  intelligence  that  a  change 
was  to  come  upon  the  existing  order  of  things, 
that  the  place  was  to  be  planted  upon  the  old 
extended  scale, 
ii 


1 62  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

"  I  doesn't  keer  to  g'way  f'm  de  ole  place," 
said  the  old  darkey  to  himself;  "but  dey 
mightn't  like  my  way  ur  doin'  things."  And 
the  thought  of  any  abdication  of  his  dictator 
ship  made  him  shake  his  head  despondently ; 
but  for  reasons  of  state  he  suppressed  his  fears 
and  conveyed  to  his  hearers  in  his  very  next 
sermon  the  hope  that  the  millennium  was  near 
at  hand.  He  rolled  his  eyes  and  smacked  his 
lips  as  if  tasting  the  promised  sweets  when  he 
gave  out  the  hymn — 

"  Dar  rocks  an'  brooks  an'  hills  an'  dales 
Wid  milk  an'  honey  flow," 

and  he  promised  the  most  bewildering  results 
to  those  who  were,  like  himself,  "  Jest  gwine 
ter  put  dere  shoulder  to  de  wheel  an'  holpe 
to  git  dar." 

"  Sho' !"  said  Aunt  Priscilla,  his  better  half, 
with  a  sniff  of  contempt  so  pronounced  that 
it  scandalized  the  whole  meeting. 

Uncle  Dan'l  looked  meekly  at  the  offender, 
and  prayed  "  Dat  all  po'  sinners  might  have 
er  hang-down  head  an'  er  confuse'  min'." 

"  Br'er  Dan'l  is  a  mi'ty  pow'ful  preacher," 
said  one  of  the  members  of  his  flock;  "but 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  163 

yer  nebber  knows  when  to  'pend  on  Sis'  Silla. 
Like  as  not  she's  gwine  to  git  huffy  an'  spile 
de  whole  meetin'.  'Tain't  so  mi'ty  long  ago 
sence  we  wuz  down  to  B'ar  Lake  'tracted 
meetin',  jes  gittin'  our  speretual  stren'th  ro- 
newed,  an'  things  wuz  goin'  on  mi'ty  fine. 
Dar  wuz  Br'er  Dan'l  an'  de  rest  er  de  preach 
ers  in  de  pulpit,  an'  de  singin'  wuz  good,  fo' 
true.  Br'er  Dan'l  kin  beat  de  worl'  a  linin'  dat 
good  ole  hime, 

'"Here's  all  my  fader's  chillern, 

Jerusalem  in  de  mornin', 
Agoin'  home  to  glory, 

Je-ru-sa-lem  in  de  morninV 

Well,  all  de  sisters  wuz  er  rockin'  an'  er  moan- 
in'  when  sum  'un  axed  Br'er  Big  William  to 
give  in  his  spe'yunce.  Yo'  know  he's  mi'ty 
pow'ful,  too,  when  he  gits  warmed  up,  but  he's 
hard  to  git  agoin'.  He  'lowed  his  spe'yunce 
wasn't  wuf  much,  but  sich  as  it  wuz  dey  wuz 
welcome  to  it,  an'  den  he  talked  an'  he  talked 
about  his  ups  an'  his  downs  an'  er  strivin's 
wid  de  sperit  till  Sis'  Silla  'gin  to  git  tired,  an' 
she  up  an'  sez  right  out  in  de  meetin', 

" '  God  knows,  Br'er  Big  William,  yo'  mouf 


164  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

orter  be  glad  when  yo'  eyes  go  to  sleep.' 
Br'er  Big  William  ain't  mealy-mouthed  when 
he  gits  'cited,  an'  he  jes'  tole  de  ole  'oman  to 
shet  up.  At  dat  yo'  orter  seen  Sis'  Silla.  She 
jes'  riz  up  an'  rared.  She  'lowed  dat  dat  wasn't 
no  sorter  'ligion,  an'  made  sich  a  racket  dat 
dey  come  mi'ty  nigh  turnin'  Br'er  Big  William 
outen  de  s'iety  jes'  to  paserfy  de  ole  'oman. 

"  I  tell  yo',  man,  ef  dey  lef  de  ole  'oman 
alone,  de  s'iety  'ud  bust  up,  sho  !  Dar  wouldn't 
be  a  patchin'  lef  ;  but  Br'er  Dan'l  kin  manage 
her,  dat's  er  fac'.  'Pears  like  dat  ole  man  kin 
manage  anybody." 

"  Yes,  dat's  de  blessed  truf ,  but  he  knows 
better  'an  to  argify  wid  Sis'  Silla.  He !  he ! 
he!" 

"  What  yo'  laffin'  'bout  ?" 

"  De  way  dat  ole  man  manages  Sis'  Silla." 

"How's  dat?" 

"  Yo'  see  Sis'  Silla  is  smart  enuf  with  her 
tongue,  but  de  ole  man  never  sasses  her  back. 
He  jes'  gits  down  an'  prays  till  de  ole  'oman 
is  werried  out  an'  gins  up.  I  ain't  nebber  seen 
de  old  man  git  de  wust  uv  it  yet." 

"  But  what's  dat  about  sum  'un  comin'  to 
wo'k  de  ole  place  ag'in  ?" 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  165 

"  Jes'  sum  er  Br'er  DanTs  talk,  I  reckin. 
I  ain't  gwine  to  'sturb  myself  'bout  nuffin'  tell 
it  comes.  Hear  me  ?" 

Uncle  DanTs  information  proved  correct. 

Prompted  by  his  father's  desire  and  his  own 
inclination,  John  Morant  had  decided  to  un 
dertake  the  restoration  of  planting  interests 
which,  with  proper  care,  might  be  made  to 
yield  a  handsome  revenue.  Accompanied  by 
his  wife  he  made  a  visit  of  inspection  to  the 
plantation.  The  few  happy  months  of  his 
marriage  had  been  full  of  honey-moon,  sweet 
ness,  and  they  both  looked  forward  with  pleas 
ure  to  the  "  camping-out,"  as  they  termed  it, 
upon  the  old  place  with  much  pleasure. 

It  was  Uncle  Dan'l  who  received  them  upon 
their  arrival  with  the  respectful  salutation 
which  he  had  learned  in  his  youth,  w  Sarvent, 
marster ;  sarvent,  mistiss ;"  while  to  two  ter 
ror-stricken  boys,  who  bobbed  up  from  some 
where,  he  muttered, 

"  Tears  like  yo'  can't  larn  no  manners  dese 
days.  I'll  lay  I'll  warm  yo'  ef  I  ketches  yoy 
'roun'  agin !" 

The  two  urchins  tumbled  frantically  over 
each  other  in  their  haste  to  join  a  group  of 


1 66  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

less  bold  and  grinning  companions  who  were 
bowing,  scraping  their  feet,  and  mimicking 
Uncle  Dan'l's  every  movement.  Encouraged 
by  Bamma's  smile  and  John's  evident  amuse 
ment,  they  crowded  around  to  say  "  How 
dy  ?"  and  were  dispersed  only  by  the  moving 
off  of  the  carriage,  to  which  the  two  boys, 
Gabe  and  Johnson,  clung  with  uproarious  de 
light. 

Both  the  practical  and  the  sentimental  sides 
of  John's  nature  received  a  shock  when  he 
first  saw  the  old  place.  War  had  devastated 
it,  and  the  rich,  productive  soil  had  avenged 
its  subsequent  abandonment  in  thickets  and 
undergrowth,  which  inclined  one  to  doubt  that 
it  had  ever  been  reclaimed  from  primeval  wild- 
ness.  Much  of  his  happy  childhood  had  been 
passed  there,  and  yet  he  could  identify  little 
associated  with  it. 

"  I  could  almost  wish,"  he  said,  as  he  real 
ized  its  unfamiliarity,  "  that  I  had  never  re 
turned  to  the  spot.  The  growing  up  out  of 
illusions  is  not  always  pleasurable.  All  my 
boyish  impressions  seem  to  have  been  mon 
strous  exaggerations.  Fancy  me  as  a  little 
fellow  sitting  on  those  steps,  believing  with 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1 67 

implicit  faith  that  heaven  was  just  on  the 
other  side  of  the  willows,  and  that  the  world 
was  bounded  by  the  horizon  which  they 
touched.  My  views  have  broadened  since 
then,  but  my  faith  in  them  has  grown  weak 
er,  and  nothing  has  ever  been  quite  so  satis 
factory  and  pleasing  as  my  narrow  world  and 
impossible  heaven." 

"  It  is  fortunate,  then,"  said  Bamma,  "  that  I 
remember  little  of  my  childhood." 

"  You  do  not !     How  is  that  ?" 

"  Another  result  of  papa's  love  of  travel.  I 
received  so  many  different  impressions  that 
each  effaced  the  other,  and  I  remember  noth 
ing  very  clearly." 

"  Then  your  first  distinct  recollection  must 
have  been  of  something  very  superior  in  spirit 
and  matter." 

"You  could  never  guess  it,"  said  Bamma, 
laughing  merrily.  "  It  was  so  eminently  fem 


inine." 


"  You  excite  my  curiosity." 

"  I  must  tell  you,  then,  even  if  I  disappoint 
your  expectations.  It  was  a  bead  bracelet, 
given  me  on  one  of  my  birthdays." 

"  Oh,  the  barrenness  of  all  theories  !     You 


1 68  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

must  confess  your  world  was  narrower  than 
mine." 

"  I  would  certainly  acknowledge  it  if  my 
interest  had  been  limited  to  the  adornment 
of  my  small  self,  but  my  bracelet  was  an  amu 
let,  and  held  a  history  which  made  it  charm- 
ing." 

"  Ah,  you  went  early  into  the  broad  field  of 
romance,  and  now  I  can  trace  your  supersti 
tious  fancies.  Congratulate  yourself  that  you 
will  never  be  brought  face  to  face  with  any 
pitiful  disappointments  regarding  them,  but 
rather  be  happy  in  having  them  fall  away  from 
you.  But  see,"  continued  he,  pointing  to  one 
solitary  willow  on  the  bayou  bank,  whose 
branches  swayed  and  dipped  into  the  water 
with  the  regularity  of  a  pulse-beat,  "  there  is 
one  object  which  seems  never  to  have  changed 
since  my  childhood.  As  far  back  as  I  can  re 
member,  that  old  tree  has  marked  time  upon 
the  bayou." 

And  as  it  was  the  single  instance  within 
reach  of  his  vision  which  brought  back  vivid 
ly  his  childish  years,  it  crowded  his  mind  with 
boyish  reminiscences.  There  was  the  particu 
lar  spot  where  he  had  tied  his  small  boat;  just 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  169 

on  the  other  side  of  the  dark,  rippling  furrow 
made  by  one  submerged  limb,  he  had  cast  his 
first  hook  and  line ;  from  a  certain  sheltering 
branch  he  had  fired  his  first  shot,  and  heard 
breathlessly  the  whir  of  wings  which  told  his 
game.  He  turned  at  last  from  a  contempla 
tion  of  it,  and  protested  with  a  half-drawn  sigh 
against  the  times  and  circumstance  which  had 
dealt  unmercifully  with  the  old  place.  There 
was  a  herculean  task  before  him.  The  wreck 
of  the  place  seemed  more  complete  with  each 
new  observation.  Would  he  be  able  to  solve 
the  new  labor  problem  and  concentrate  its 
forces  effectively  upon  the  barren  fields  ?  With 
the  devotion  of  all  his  energies  to  the  task, 
would  he  ever  be  able  to  bring  order  out  of 
chaos,  and  take  the  place  of  the  princely  land 
ed  proprietor  of  his  boyish  dreams  ?  Adverse 
contingencies  persistently  loomed  up,  to  be 
thrust  aside  with  the  hopefulness  of  youth  and 
its  indomitable  will.  Spectral  disasters  ap 
peared  and  disappeared  lightly  before  his  vis 
ion,  and  finally  took  flight  forever  before  the 
courage  which  met  them. 

He  accomplished  much  in  a  limited  time, 
and   some   of  his   boyish    lightness   of  heart 


1 70  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

returned  to  him  when  what  seemed  almost 
insurmountable  obstacles  cleared  themselves 
away  or  became  easy  to  overcome. 

If  he  had  suffered  a  shock  at  the  unfavora- 
bleness  of  his  first  impressions,  his  confidence 
in  eventual  improvement  was  stimulated  by 
the  good  results  which  soon  came  to  be  visi 
ble  from  his  efforts. 

Never  did  the  world  seem  so  broad  and  fair 
as  in  the  early  days  of  that  memorable  return 
to  the  old  plantation.  He  drifted  towards  an 
enchanting  egoism  which  his  domestic  rela 
tions  were  well  calculated  to  promote.  Bam- 
ma  belonged  to  no  very  self-sacrificing  type 
of  woman,  but  she  possessed  in  an  eminent 
degree  the  faculty  of  secluding  her  personality; 
and  if  John  Morant's  nature  had  been  less 
generous,  she  might  have  transformed  him 
into  the  most  selfish  of  men,  so  thoroughly 
did  she  conform  to  all  his  tastes  and  desires. 
As  it  was,  he  delighted  in  the  agreeable  sense 
of  importance  and  suggestions  of  supremacy 
which  her  soft  flatteries  induced.  Appealing 
to  his  tenderness,  making  no  demands  intel- 
lectively,  she  owned  the  thoroughly  distinctive 
charm  which  most  quickly  subdues  and  long- 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF, 


est  holds  possession  of  a  man's  interest  and 
affection. 

It  was  a  perfect  hour  of  his  life  when,  at 
the  close  of  the  day,  he  went  out  upon  the 
open  gallery,  and  drawing  his  wife  close  to  his 
side,  watched  the  calm  moon  rise  and  shed 
her  light  upon  the  waste  places.  The  silvery 
radiance  touching  the  willows  made  them 
seem  once  more  the  borders  of  a  delectable 
land.  Dark,  velvety  shadows  danced  upon 
the  waters  of  the  sluggish  bayou,  and  lost 
themselves  among  the  water-lilies,  while  the 
broad  fields  seemed  less  wild  under  its  mild, 
soft  beams,  and  stretching  away  in  the  dis 
tance,  melted  into  the  far  off  forest  line, 


172  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

AUNT  PRISCILLA,  as  cook  and  general  man 
ager  of  the  household,  did  credit  to  her  early 
training.  For  her  assistants  she  chose  Uncle 
Dan'l  and  the  two  boys  Gabe  and  Johnson. 
It  took  the  combined  efforts  of  all  to  spread 
the  table  for  the  morning  meal.  So  unusual 

o 

an  event  deserved  the  greatest  consideration, 
and  the  responsibility  almost  drove  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla  frantic.  The  sudden  promotion  to  a  post 
of  honor  was  too  much  for  the  flighty  heads 
of  the  boys,  and  they  developed  an  irresistible 
tendency  to  acts  of  legerdemain.  A  dexter 
ous  movement  on  the  part  of  Gabe  caused  the 
disappearance  of  a  tempting  biscuit.  Two 
skilful  passes  of  the  hand  supplied  Johnson 
with  enough  sugar  to  moderately  satisfy  his 
longing  for  that  sweet.  Emboldened  by  so 
graceful  and  successful  an  act,  he  winked  at 
Gabe  and  leaned  suspiciously  over  a  glass  of 
milk  particularly  rich  with  cream,  which  Aunt 
Priscilla  had  deposited  with  much  pride  at 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  1/3 

the  head  of  the  table.  A  lively  clatter  and 
rattle  of  plates  brought  Aunt  Priscilla  down 
upon  him.  Perceiving  his  cheeks  distended 
by  some  unknown  quantity,  she  gave  him  a 
sharp  box.  Her  astonishment  at  the  result 
was  as  unmeasured  as  the  grinning  delight  of 
Gabe  and  Johnson.  She  could  only  gasp  as 
she  wiped  the  fluid  from  her  face  and  ample 
bosom. 

"  You  two  wants  killin',  for  a  blessed  fact !" 

It  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  she  could 
get  them  into  a  state  of  respectful  silence 
again.  And,  after  all,  they  disgraced  them 
selves  forever  in  Uncle  Dan'l's  eyes.  He  ex 
plained  it  to  Aunt  Priscilla  as  she  was  busy 
frying  the  batter-cakes : 

"  Jes'  as  Mars'  John  and  Miss  Bamma  was 
er  settin'  down,  an'  I  was  a  pridin'  myself  on 
how  dem  boys  was  goin'  to  'member  deirselves, 
Gabe  gin  a  snort  an'  den  Johnson  sniggered 
right  out,  an'  dey  run  outen  de  house  an'  I 
ain't  seen  'em  sence." 

"Well,"  said  Aunt  Priscilla,  "ef  you'd  hump 
yo'self,  dere  wouldn't  be  no  use  er  'pendin'  on 
dem  chillern.  It's  jes'  like  a  nigger,  wantin' 
a  swarm  aroun'  him.  I'll  lay  dey'd  git  all  dey 


174  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

wanted  in  de  house  ef  yo'  wuz  wuf  sumpin' 
yo'self.  Take  in  dem  cakes,  will  yo',  an'  hush 
a  talkin'." 

"  Why,  what's  I  done  ?"  he  said,  in  amaze 
ment.  Receiving  no  response  save  a  gut 
tural  interjection,  he  went  in  the  house,  mut 
tering,  "  I'll  leave  de  ole  'oman  to  sass  herself, 
jes'  fur  to  keep  her  hand  in." 

The  morning  repast  proved  more  appetiz 
ing  than  the  surroundings  would  have  sug 
gested.  Given  a  kitchen  whose  corners  have 
never  known  a  broom  invasion,  walls  festooned 
with  cobwebs  that  catch  the  unwary  fly,  win 
dows  stained  and  dimmed  by  time,  and  gen 
eral  disorder  triumphant,  and  within  so  un 
promising  a  domestic  temple  an  old-time  ne 
gro  cook  can  prepare  dainties  that  will  ravish 
the  most  fastidious  palate.  Aunt  Priscilla  kept 
the  memory  of  her  former  culinary  triumphs 
alive  by  means  of  what  she  called  her  "  Beat 
biscuits."  She  could  never  be  taxed  with  the 
omission  of  a  single  ingredient,  or  the  lack  of 
muscular  power  to  bring  them  to  a  state  of 
crisp  lightness.  Her  recipe  was  a  simple  one. 

"  De  ingregiums  am  elbow-grease,  dat's  all, 
honey." 


TOWARDS   THE  GULF.  175 

John  declared  that -the  only  fault  he  ever 
found  with  them  was  the  impossibility  of  de 
termining  the  regulation  number  to  be  con 
sumed.  The  old  woman's  face  always  glowed 
with  delight  at  a  practical  appreciation  of  her 
efforts.  She  took  Uncle  Dan'l  to  task  if  he 
failed  to  return  for  fresh  supplies,  and  made 
it  a  personal  matter  when  he  declared  that 
folks  had  had  enough. 

As  John  rose  from  the  breakfast-table,  he 
said  to  Bamma,  "  Can  you  amuse  yourself  in 
this  lonely  old  place  for  a  whole  day  ?  Uncle 
Dan'l  and  I  are  going  on  a  tour  of  the  neigh 
borhood,  and  we  may  be  gone  until  late  in  the 
evening.  I  do  not  like  to  leave  you  alone,  but 
there  seems  to  be  no  help  for  it." 

"  Do  not  make  yourself  at  all  unhappy  about 
it,"  said  Bamma,  "  I  think  I  will  positively  en 
joy  it." 

"  What  wonderful  resources  do  you  depend 
upon  for  enjoyments  ?"  said  John,  banteringly. 

"  Oh,  I  suppose,"  she  responded,  merrily, 
"  that,  as  a  last  resort,  I  can  go  to  sleep." 

John  laughed  at  the  words,  which  suggested 
one  peculiarity  of  hers  which  always  amused 
hjm.  While  able  to  sustain  any  tax  upon  her 


176  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

hours  of  rest,  being  notably  the  freshest-look 
ing  little  creature  at  the  close  of  any  evening 
entertainment  that  one's  eye  could  rest  upon, 
she  was  always  ready,  day  or  night,  to  close 
her  eyes  at  a  moment's  notice  in  a  sleep  as 
profound  as  that  of  any  little  child. 

"  I  will  return  as  soon  as  I  can,"  said  he, 
as  she  followed  him  to  the  door  and  watched 
with  interest  the  preparations  for  departure. 
There  was  no  gallant  steed  for  him  to  mount 
and  ride  away,  as  in  the  olden  time — only  a 
small  white  mule  waiting  patiently  the  day's 
work. 

"  He  don'  look  peart,"  said  Uncle  Dan'l, 
encouragingly,  "but  he's  de  fines'  little  ani- 
mule  in  de  country." 

John  looked  doubtfully  at  the  finest,  and 
tested  carefully  the  state  of  the  rope  girths 
which  stood  between  him  and  a  possible  fall. 
Safely  mounted  at  last,  he  rode  off,  enjoying 
Bamma's  merriment  at  his  expense,  and  gaz 
ing  admiringly  at  the  pretty  picture  she  made 
as  she  stood  framed  in  the  door-way.  He  fol 
lowed  her  laughing  eyes  till  they  rested  on 
Uncle  Dan'l  jogging  along  in  the  rear.  The 
old  man  was  mounted  on  a  wonderfully  tall, 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  177 

rawboned  mule,  which  never  responded  by  any 
sign  to  his  occasional  entreaties  of  "  Git  along, 
'Mandy !"  John  signalled  his  appreciation  of 
the  comic  aspect  of  his  attendant,  and  drew 
rein  for  his  nearer  approach. 

"  We  ought  to  get  over  a  good  deal  of 
ground  to-day,  Daniel,  and  I  am  afraid  you 
haven't  a  very  fast  animal.  He  looks  as  old 
as  you  do." 

"  He,  he  !  Mars'  John,  you's  jokin'.  Why, 
I'se  nigh  on  to  five  hunderd,  an'  'Mandy — - 
well,  she's  lively  yet.  Dar's  a  heap  o'  out 
come  in  'Mandy.  Yo'  needn't  be  feared  about 
us.  De  roads  ent  so  bad  along  here  nuther, 
an'  we  kin  keep  along  pooty  smart." 

The  road,  though  not  much  travelled,  was 
still  distinct,  and  the  ground  hard,  even,  and 
as  smooth  as  glass.  One  could  not  realize 
that  at  certain  seasons  of  the  year  this  same 
ground  was  almost  impassable,  that  the  win 
ter  rains  converted  it  into  a  soft  mass  of  blue 
mud,  into  which  one's  horse  might  sink  at  any 
moment,  with  small  hope  of  extricating  him 
self. 

There  was  no  variety  in  the  landscape,  only 
one  interminable  waste  of  open  land  growing 

I  2 


i;8  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

up  into  a  wilderness  again.  The  prodigality 
of  the  soil  was  apparent  on  every  hand.  The 
deserted  fields  had  decked  themselves  in  a 
fantastic  vesture,  which  only  made  their  for- 
lornness  more  impressive.  A  deep  dejection 
settled  upon  John.  The  spirit  of  the  dead 
past  absorbed  him.  In  the  wreck  of  prosperi 
ty  which  lay  around  him  he  seemed  to  see,  as 
in  a  dream,  the  sorrowful  trials  of  noble  hearts 
who  had  gone  before  him,  and  he  felt  once 
more  in  his  own  heart  the  sadness  of  the  times 
which  had  tried  their  souls. 

Was  it  all  imagination?  or  did  he  remember 
far  back  in  his  childish  days,  when  the  fields 
were  like  a  beautiful  garden  ?  Did  gangs  of 
busy  laborers  pass  up  and  down  the  long  rows 
of  blooming  cotton,  plying  deft  fingers,  and 
piling  the  fleecy  staple  in  great  baskets  that 
always  seemed  to  overflow  their  contents  ? 
Did  he  hear  the  noise  of  oars  upon  the  bay 
ou,  and  the  corn  song  floating  out  merrily 
upon  the  air?  He  checked  his  mule  almost 
in  the  belief  that  the  melody  was  still  sound 
ing  down  through  all  these  years.  The  gar- 
rulousness  of  Uncle  Dan'l  had  been  lost  upon 
him,  but  here  it  asserted  itself. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1/9 

"  We's  nigh  de  mounds,  Mars'  John.  Dar's 
de  ole  nabo'hood  berrin'-groun'." 

Looking  across  the  open  land,  one  caught 
a  glimpse  of  three  strange-looking  protuber 
ances  above  the  dead  level  of  the  surrounding 
country.  These  tumuli  were  supposed  to  be 
the  work  of  an  ancient  people ;  but  no  anti 
quarian  interest  had  ever  developed  their  mys 
teries.  They  had  served  to  confer  a  name 
upon  the  plantation,  and  the  centre  mound, 
the  largest  of  the  three,  rising  far  above  the 
danger  of  overflow,  had  been  considered  a 
good  place  of  sepulture.  Possibly  it  had 
served  the  same  purpose  in  the  days  of  that 
ancient  people  of  whom  nothing  was  left  but 
these  conjectured  remains.  Many  an  old  ne 
gro  grave-digger  turned  up  with  his  spade 
strange  pieces  of  pottery  and  odd -looking 
beads,  which  he  laid  away  with  an  abiding 
faith  in  their  power  to  work  charms. 

This  place  was  recalled  to  John's  memory 
by  Uncle  Dan'l  as  "  Mars'  Billy  Bush's  old 
place."  It  seemed  to  open  a  fresh  theme  for 
the  old  negro's  garrulity.  "  Of  course  Mars' 
John  could  not  recollect  Mars'  Billy.  He  died 
before  Mars'  John  was  born ;  but  he  was  a 


ISO  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

mighty  fine  gentleman.  There  wasn't  any 
body  as  grand  as  he  in  the  whole  country. 
When  he  died  his  place  was  sold  to  somebody 
who  never  came  to  live  on  it.  The  old  house 
was  still  standing.  Nobody  ever  touched  any 
thing  in  it,  though  it  was  left  open  all  the 
time,  for  people  said  it  was  haunted  —  caus' 
Mars'  Billy  had  killed  hisself ;  that  Mars'  Billy's 
spirit  sometimes  came  back  and  walked  around 
it  It  was  just  over  there  in  that  clump  of 
trees.  If  Mars'  John  would  like  to  see  it,  they 
could  easily  go  in  the  house." 

There  was  something  in  the  thought  of  see 
ing  a  place  dominated  by  the  spirit  of  such  a 
man  that  aroused  John's  interest.  He  turned 
into  a  narrow  pathway  which  led  up  to  the 
house.  Mildewed  and  gray  with  time,  it  stood, 
the  crowning  desolation  of  a  devastated  land. 
The  solemn  stillness  of  desertion  was  over  it 
all.  A  sensation  almost  of  cowardice  thrilled 
John  as  he  pushed  open  the  door  and  printed 
his  feet  on  the  dust -laden  floor;  but  he  re 
covered  himself  with  an  amused  smile,  as  he 
saw  the  same  emotion  exaggerated  in  Uncle 
Dan'l's  wrinkled  face. 

The  furnishing  even  of  a  wealthy  bachelor's 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  l8l 

establishment  in  those  days  was  simple  in  the 
extreme,  and  there  were  no  traces  here  of  that 
luxurious  living  which  had  been  the  wonder 
and  talk  of  the  whole  country.  The  dining- 
room  still  retained  a  few  chairs  and  the  plain 
table  around  which  had  gathered  hosts  of 
friends  to  feasts  Lucullus  might  have  ap 
proved. 

The  deep  baying  of  deer-hounds  had  been 
hushed  for  over  half  a  century;  but  trophies 
of  the  hunt  in  the  shape  of  two  huge  antlers 
still  hung  upon  the  walls. 

Passing  out  of  the  dining-room,  John  en 
tered  an  apartment  which  had  evidently  been 
devoted  to  a  library.  Careless  hands  had  scat 
tered  the  books  everywhere.  Most  of  them 
had  been  thrown  upon  the  floor.  Here  the 
rains  of  many  seasons  had  beaten  in  upon 
them  from  an  unroofed  corner  of  the  ceiling, 
and  reduced  them  to  their  original  pulp. 

Projecting  from  this  mass,  John  saw  in  a 
far  corner  a  bit  of  wood  suggesting  the  frame 
of  a  picture.  With  the  assistance  of  Uncle 
Dan'l  he  extricated  it.  It  proved  to  be  an  oil 
portrait,  in  a  tolerably  good  state  of  preserva 
tion,  and  was  recognized  immediately  by  Un- 


1 82  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

cle  Dan'l  as  "  Mars'  Billy  hisself."  With  deep- 
est  interest  John  brushed  away  the  greenish 
mould  which  had  accumulated  upon  the  sur 
face  of  the  canvas,  and  placing  it  in  a  good 
light,  he  sat  down  before  it  upon  a  high,  dry 
portion  of  the  book-heap. 

The  touch  of  the  artist's  brush  had  been  a 
skilful  one.  From  a  sombre  background  the 
face,  head,  and  shoulders  of  a  man  of  massive 
proportions  stood  out  in  fine  relief.  There 
was  a  gleam  of  gold  upon  the  red-brown  hair 
and  beard.  The  gray  eyes  had  a  half  ques 
tioning,  half  mocking  glance  under  their  heavy, 
sleepy  lids.  The  nose  was  Roman,  and  the 
artist  had  faithfully  deepened  in  it  the  tint  of 
the  ruddy  complexion.  The  upper  lip  was 
short,  the  under  jaw  heavy  and  projecting. 
As  John  studied  the  face,  a  strange  sense  of 
familiarity  with  it  entered  his  imagination. 
This  recognition  of  a  likeness  to  something 
known  to  him  grew  more  puzzling  at  each  at 
tempt  to  define  it.  He  continued  to  regard 
the  picture  with  perplexity,  and  at  last  rose 
with  a  movement  of  irritation  and  turned  the 
face  of  it  to  the  wall.  He  paused  a  moment, 
then  reconsidering  his  action,  called  Uncle 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  183 

Dan'l  to  his  aid,  and  mounting  the  high  man 
tle-shelf  with  all  the  ease  of  a  boy,  hung  the 
picture  on  a  nail  just  overhead.  He  rubbed 
his  hands  together  gleefully  at  this  feat,  and 
springing  down,  retreated  a  few  steps  to  see 
the  result  of  his  work.  More  vividly  than 
ever  came  out  that  inexplicable  likeness. 

In  its  present  position  the  face  lost  much 
of  its  heaviness,  and  the  eyes  their  sarcastic 
gleam.  There  was  a  fine  dignity  in  the  pose 
of  the  head,  and  a  ray  of  sunshine  coming 
through  one  single  clear  spot  in  the  dingy 
window-panes  fell  across  the  face,  and  lighted 
it  with  an  expression  of  genial  humor.  It 
must  have  been  with  this  look  that  he  gath 
ered  around  him  the  numerous  spirits  who 
enjoyed  his  hospitalities  and  his  favors. 

And  now,  though  ready  to  depart,  John  lin 
gered  with  a  feeling  of  sadness,  loath  to  leave 
that  grand  figure  all  alone,  smiling  down  upon 
the  ruins  of  his  hearth-stone.  The  eyes  seemed 
to  follow  him,  and  the  familiar  smile  haunted 
him  as  with  a  sigh  he  closed  the  door  and 
went  out  in  the  open  air  and  sunshine. 

Uncle  Dan'l  had  busied  himself  searching 
the  debris  of  the  library,  and  now  recovering 


1 84  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

his  voice  and  spirits,  which  had  been  much 
subdued  in-doors,  approached  John,  and  placed 
in  his  hands  a  curious  collection  of  greenish- 
colored  beads,  like  polished  malachite. 

"  Dar  ain't  no  use  leavin'  dis  Injun  trash  in 
dar.  Sum'  folks  used  ter  think  a  heap  uv  it, 
an'  mebbe  you'll  like  it.  Ony  way,  it's  good 
to  keep  fo'  luck.  I'se  seen  lots  er  dem  beads 
from  de  mounds." 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  gazing  at  them  with  some 
curiosity.  "  They  must  have  been  taken  from 
the  mounds ;  but  where  did  you  get  the  idea 
that  they  would  bring  good-luck  ?" 

"  Dunno,  sah ;  but  dat's  what  folks  allus 
said.  White  folks  used  ter  set  em  in  gol'  an' 
w'ar  'em.  Dey  keeps  away  sickness,  sho'.  I'se 
tried  'em." 

"  Well,  we'll  take  them  to  your  mistress," 
said  John,  smiling,  as  he  mounted  once  more 
his  little  mule,  "  and  help  her  to  long  life  and 
good-luck." 

They  turned  their  way  homeward,  and  the 
old  negro  again  became  garrulous.  John  list 
ened  attentively  to  the  olden -time  stories  of 
the  country,  which  had  almost  passed  out  of 
mind,  and  he  asked  many  questions  concern- 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  185 

ing  the  man  whose  portrait  had  interested  him. 
One  old  scandal  particularly  gave  him  a  curi 
ous  shock.  He  had  heard  it  before,  but  nev 
er  had  it  seemed  so  pregnant  of  evil.  It  was 
a  story  shrouded  in  mystery,  but  clear  enough 
in  one  thing,  that  human,  as  well  as  divine 
law  and  statute,  had  been  overthrown  by  the 
greater  strength  of  human  passion. 

It  was  told  dramatically,  and  as  if  this  was 
the  climax  of  all  converse,  the  old  negro  grad 
ually  fell  back  far  in  the  rear  and  was  silent, 
while  John  sank  into  profound  reverie. 

Where  had  he  seen  somebody  who  resem 
bled  that  fine-looking  old  planter? 


1 86  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

BAMMA  danced  along  the  broad  galleries 
and  sang  snatches  of  song  in  the  deserted 
rooms.  Upon  one  melody  of  peculiar  sweet 
ness  she  sang  such  varied  changes  that  Aunt 
Priscilla,  at  work  in  the  kitchen,  paused  to 
mutter, 

"  Tears  like  all  de  mockin'-birds  in  de  coun 
try  is  comin'  back  to  de  ole  place." 

Her  voice  rose  at  first  in  a  joyous  outburst, 
and  she  dropped  her  notes  in  a  clear  staccato 
way  which  might  well  have  deceived  the  old 
woman ;  but  the  silence  of  the  house  gradu 
ally  told  upon  her  song,  and  it  fell  into  a  soft 
minor,  which  finally  exhausted  itself  in  a  sigh. 
The  day  was  to  be  interminable,  after  all. 
What  was  she  to  do  ?  She  gathered  up  her 
dainty  skirts  and  ventured  into  Aunt  Priscil- 
la's  sanctum. 

"  'Deed,  honey,  an'  'tain't  no  fittin'  place  for 
you,"  said  the  old  woman,  as  she  dusted  a 
bench  for  her;  but  Bamma  sat  down,  and 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  1 87 

very  soon  found  herself  listening  with  inter 
est  to  stories  of  the  grandeur  of  olden  days 
which  her  numerous  questions  drew  from 
Aunt  Priscilla.  To  ask  about  the  family  was 
to  loose  the  old  woman's  tongue  and  start  her 
upon  many  an  absurd  flight  of  fancy.  Her 
stories  were  all  told  with  an  exaggeration  of 
dignity  infinitely  amusing.  It  seemed  as  if 
the  stateliness  of  some  of  the  old  Morants  en 
tered  the  soul  of  Aunt  Priscilla  as  she  de 
tailed  their  former  greatness,  but  she  mixed 
things  sadly  in  the  dates  gone  by.  Bamma 
grew  weary  at  last  of  the  effort  to  untangle 
the  maze  into  which  the  vivid  imagination  of 
Aunt  Priscilla  led  her,  and  she  had  to  fall 
back  upon  the  resources  of  which  she  had 
boasted — sleep. 

The  day  was  far  gone  when  she  was  roused 
from  a  dreamless  doze  by  a  curious  sound, 
which,  as  she  became  fully  conscious,  resolved 
itself  into  a  prolonged  bray  from  Uncle  Dan'l's 
'Mandy. 

She  rushed  out  childishly,  full  of  life  and 
spirits,  forgetting  the  day's  discomfort  in  the 
delight  of  her  husband's  return.  It  was,  per 
haps,  her  greatest  charm  that  she  was  always 


1 88  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

thus  childlike  and  good-humored.  To  extract 
sympathy  for  small  trials  was  a  feminine  mis 
take  which  she  never  made;  not  that  she  ever 
thought  at  all  upon  the  subject,  any  playful 
kitten's  logic  might  have  been  the  same. 

She  clung  to  John  and  plied  him  with  ques 
tions. 

"  Was  he  tired  ?  Where  had  he  been  ? 
What  had  he  seen?" 

"  My  dear,"  he  responded,  with  mock  so 
lemnity,  "  let  me  give  you  a  word  or  two  of 
advice  which  will  be  well  worth  your  atten 
tion.  Never  ask  questions  of  a  hungry  man. 
He  has  returned  to  the  condition  of  his  Dar 
winian  ancestors,  and  may  be  marked  '  Dan 
gerous.'  If  Aunt  Priscilla  has  anything  de 
lectable  to  satisfy  the  small  tiger  which  has 
taken  possession  of  me,  will  you  please  order 
it  served  ?" 

She  uttered  a  slight  cry  of  self-reproach,  and 
hurried  away  to  see  it  done ;  but  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla's  training  had  been  good,  and  she  was 
equal  to  the  emergency  of  an  irregular  meal. 
Very  soon  John  was  handling  a  carver  with 
the  energy  of  waiting  appetite. 

"  Is  the  tiger  sufficiently  appeased  for  you 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  189 

to  be  communicative  ?"  said  Bamma,  at  last, 
no  longer  able  to  restrain  her  questions. 

"  Did  you  really  think  I  was  so  hungry  that 
I  could  not  talk  ?" 

"Certainly  I  did,"  she  said,  in  an  injured 
tone.  "  You  have  not  given  me  a  word  yet  in 
answer  to  all  my  questions." 

"  Haven't  I  ?  The  fact  is  that  I  have  been 
busy  ransacking  my  memory  for  a  lost  link, 
but  the  more  I  search  for  it,  the  more  difficult 
it  is  to  find." 

"  Perhaps  I  can  help  you." 

"  You  ?  Oh  no !  It  is  so  far  removed  from 
you  that  you  would  not  have  the  shadow  of  a 
chance  in  the  search.  I  think  I  will  not  even 
tell  you  about  it  until  I  smoke  my  cigar." 

"  Do  not  make  me  wait  for  the  cigar,"  she 
said,  with  a  little  moue  of  disgust,  "  for  then 
you  will  be  in  a  denser  fog  than  ever." 

"  No,"  responded  John,  prepared  to  defend 
the  weed  vigorously.  "  If  you  could  only  know 
what  a  help  it  is  to  the  dull  brain,  how  it  starts 
the  machinery  of  that  delicate  organ  without 
a  jar,  you  would  hail  its  coming  with  delight." 

"  Well,  if  your  cigar  can  arouse  you  to  con 
versational  pitch,- 1  will  do  as  Uncle  Dan'l  did 


I QO  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

yesterday,  bring  you  a  live  coal  from  the  kitch 
en,  and  hold  the  tongs  myself  for  you." 

John  declared  that  the  method  she  suggest 
ed  was  unique,  and  so  very  much  superior  to 
all  modern  innovations  that  he  would  insist 
upon  her  carrying  the  proposition  immediate 
ly  into  effect. 

"  Fetch  the  tongs,"  he  cried,  pushing  back 
his  chair  and  opening  his  cigar-case. 

She  disappeared,  and  soon  returned  with  the 
coal  held  between  two  small  strips  of  wood, 
and  offered  it  to  him  with  a  courtesy. 

"  Aunt  Priscilla  showed  me  exactly  the  way 
old  master  always  had  it  brought  to  him,  and 
she  enjoined  upon  me  the  necessity  of  '  drap- 
pin'  a  curchy '  when  I  handed  it.  How  do 
you  like  my  effort?" 

"  Astonishingly  well,"  he  said,  regarding  her 
with  admiring  eyes.  u  For  a  novice  you  are 
wellnigh  perfect." 

He  touched  his  cigar  to  the  coal,  drew  in 
the  fresh  clean  smoke,  and  exhaled  it  slowly 
with  a  look  of  perfect  content. 

"  Old  marster's  way  was  a  good  one.  What 
a  pity  that  it  was  ever  supplanted  by  wax 
tapers  or  lucifer  matches!  It  is  the  penalty 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  IQI 

of  progress  to  deprive  us  of  many  a  simple, 
exquisite  pleasure."  With  a  mock  sigh  he 
linked  Bamma's  arm  within  his  own  and 
passed  out  on  the  gallery. 

"You  are  just  in  the  mood  to  try  another 
phase  of  rusticity,"  said  she,  disengaging  her 
self  and  suddenly  disappearing  in-doors.  She 
returned  in  a  moment  with  the  little  bench 
from  Aunt  Priscilla's  kitchen. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  with  it?"  said 
John,  watching  her  with  amusement,  and  ad 
vancing  to  her  assistance. 

"  I  want  to  place  it  under  the  big  oak.  Ev 
erything  outside  suggests  such  perfect  harmo 
ny  with  your  present  humor.  I  am  sure  it 
will  be  delightful  to  sit  there." 

Like  two  merry  comrades  they  adjusted 
themselves  to  the  pleasurable  influences  of 
the  scene.  The  evening  was  beautiful.  Trees, 
grass,  earth,  and  sky  were  illumined  by  the 
radiance  of  the  setting  sun.  John  looked  with 
beaming  eyes  upon  the  gilded  expanse  before 
him. 

"  We  might  make  a  very  Eden  of  it !"  he 
said,  with  enthusiasm.  "  The  old  place  is  full 
of^  wonderful  possibilities." 


I Q2  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

"  And  malaria,"  added  Bamma,  with  mock 
ing  sweetness. 

"  Yes,"  said  John,  amused  at  her  pertinent 
sarcasm ;  "  that  is  a  fatal  defect  in  our  Eden. 
But  one  would  never  suspect  danger  lurking 
in  this  atmosphere."  He  lazily  expelled  a 
cloud  of  smoke,  removed  his  cigar  for  a  mo 
ment  from  his  lips,  and  then  returned  it  with 
a  sudden  exclamation.  Thrusting  his  hand 
into  his  pocket  he  brought  to  view  the  Indian 
beads  which  Uncle  Dan'l  had  given  him. 
"  There,"  he  continued,  "  I  had  almost  forgot 
ten  a  pretty  gift  for  you,  and  Uncle  Dan'l  says 
a  veritable  charm  against  all  evil,  possibly  in 
cluding  malaria." 

"  Ah !"  said  she,  receiving  them  with  pro 
found  astonishment.  "  How  odd  !  My  own 
beads  again !" 

"  Your  beads  ?" 

"  No,  they  cannot  be,  but  strangely  like. 
Do  you  remember  my  bracelet — the  one  given 
me  when  I  was  a  little  child  ?  I  told  you  it 
was  an  amulet  and  held  a  history.  Wait  a 
moment,  I  will  show  it  to  you  ;  but,"  continued 
she,  pausing  an  instant  on  rising,  "what  will 
you  say  now  of  my  superstition  when  you  find 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  193 

I  am  credulous  of  its  merits  and  have  even 
brought  it  with  me  here  to  protect  me  ?" 

She  looked  so  archly  sweet  as  she  made 
her  ridiculous  confession,  that  John  gave 
her  a  tender  command  with  a  very  indulgent 
smile. 

"  Go  get  it,  and  I  will  reserve  my  opinion." 

She  returned  in  a  few  moments,  bringing 
with  her  a  slender  string  of  green -and-gold 
beads,  fastened  with  a  singularly  realistic  ser 
pent's  head. 

Placing  it  in  John's  hand,  .she  put  the  In 
dian  beads  which  he  had  brought  her  beside 
it.  The  beads  were  identical  with  those  of 
the  bracelet  —  of  the  same  roughly  polished 
stone  —  and  might  have  replaced  each  other 
without  chance  of  discovery. 

"  What  do  you  know  of  its  history  ?"  said 
he,  with  sudden  interest. 

"  Very  little,  after  all,"  answered  Bamma. 
"  My  childish  imagination  builded  greatly 
upon  the  fact  that  it  belonged  to  my  mother's 
mother,  and  was  reported  to  possess  some 
strange,  mysterious  power  for  good  or  evil, 
just  as  one  desired  it.  The  beads  were  said 
toshave  been  dug  from  an  Indian  mound  on 


194  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

my  grandfather's  estate,  and  mounted  in  their 
present  fashion  for  my  grandmother." 

"  Your  vivid  imagination  might  make  some 
thing  of  the  coincidences  of  Uncle  Dan'l's 
beads,"  said  John,  twining  the  bracelet  in  and 
out,  and  allowing  it  to  slip  slowly  through  his 
open  fingers.  "  We  must  have  them  set  as  a 
companion  trinket,  and  you  may  believe  your 
self  doubly  guarded.  I  should  not  care,  how 
ever,  to  trust  myself  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
that  vicious-looking  snake's  head.  How  will 
you  be  able  to  tolerate  two  of  them  ?  There  !" 
he  exclaimed,  as  he  pressed  unconsciously  the 
spring  of  the  clasp  and  fastened  it  again  with 
a  sudden  snap,  "  I  believe  it  has  spitefully 
stung  me,  for  I  distinctly  felt  the  pain." 

Bamma  laughed  merrily  at  his  mock  ex 
pression  of  horror,  while  he  declared  that  he 
was  demoralized,  and  quite  ready  to  enter 
tain  any  monstrous  idea  that  might  present 
itself. 

It  really  seemed  as  if  the  bracelet  possessed 
a  curious  fascination  for  him.  He  contem 
plated  it  with  a  puzzled  expression,  which 
grew  as  he  included  Uncle  Dan'l's  offering. 
The  beads  evidently  bore  some  relation  to 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  195 

each  other.  In  both  cases  the  ancient  mound- 
builders  had  been  despoiled ;  but  for  the  brace 
let,  when  and  where  ?  Speculation  gradually 
came  to  be  an  effort  in  the  delicious  softness 
of  the  evening,  and  his  mind  slowly  fell  into 
the  dreamy  inertness  of  perfect  content. 

A  mild  breeze  was  blowing,  and  there  was 
an  occasional  little  gust  that  turned  up  the 
dead  leaves,  sending  them  flying  about  with  a 
gentle  vibratory  motion.  How  pretty  Bamma 
looked  !  She  had  loosed  her  hair,  and  permit 
ted  the  wind  to  toss  and  turn  it  into  little 
rings  and  curls  about  her  head.  The  wind 
and  the  sunshine  seemed  to  bring  to  her  a 
sweet  languor.  Curving  her  arms  upward, 
she  leaned  against  the  tree,  and  the  breeze 
swept  around  her  and  over  her  softly,  caress 
ingly.  A  gleam  of  sunshine  flickered  a  mo 
ment  in  the  branches,  then  shot  a  sudden, 
steady  gleam  across  her  smiling  face,  and  then 
— circumstances  lent  to  that  small  beam  a 
startling  force.  Along  its  golden  pathway 
was  borne  like  an  electric  shock  a  conviction 
which  burned  itself  into  John's  brain.  The 
strange  likeness  which  had  baffled  him  when 
he  stood  before  the  portrait  in  that  old  de- 


196  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

sorted  house  was  no  longer  a  mystery.  It 
stood  out  clear  and  distinct  in  his  wife's  face ! 

Was  it  accidental  ?  What  connection  did 
it  suggest  ?  And  those  beads !  They  rested 
like  a  coiled  green  serpent  upon  his  knee. 

The  warning  of  old  Celine  came  back  to 
his  memory  with  the  vividness  of  a  lightning 
stroke,  and  quick  upon  it  the  story  he  had  that 
day  heard  recalled.  His  mind  went  straight 
to  a  conclusion  which  held  for  him  the  bitter 
ness  of  despair. 

That  strange,  strange  likeness  !  Would  he 
ever  be  able  to  trace  its  origin,  and  if  he  did, 
what  would  stare  him  in  the  face  ?  There 
could  have  been  no  fate  so  cruel  as  that  which 
thus  confronted  him  and  crucified  him  in  his 
tenderest  affections. 

At  the  moment  that  this  knowledge  was 
forced  upon  him,  Bam  ma  was  resting  against 
the  tree  with  eyes  closed  to  the  bright  gleam 
playing  over  her  face,  and  disclosing  the  tragic 
element  of  her  life. 

John's  emotion  had  touched  its  profoundest 
depth  when  the  beam  withdrew  itself  and  she 
opened  her  eyes.  Startled  by  his  strange  man 
ner,  she  sprang  towards  him. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  197 

"  Are  you  ill  ?     Oh,  John,  what  can  it  be  ?" 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered,  slowly  and  hoarse 
ly,  looking  at  her  with  the  expression  of  one 
who  sees  beyond  material  things  into  the  re 
gion  of  horrible  mystery,  and  then  with  a  shiv 
er  he  turned  away  from  her.  She  clasped  his 
arm  with  a  movement  of  terror,  and  again  ap 
pealed  to  him. 

"Tell  me,  are  you  ill?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  brokenly,  "  I  am  ill— I  will 
go  in  and  rest.  Do  not  follow  me — I  would 
rather  be — alone." 

She  checked  herself  as  if  she  had  received 
a  blow,  and  gazed  after  him  as  he  moved  in 
the  direction  of  the  house  with  a  look  of  pain. 
He  reached  a  large  arm-chair  upon  the  gal 
lery  and  sank  into  it,  resting  his  head  upon 
his  hands.  Then  he  went  over  the  past  and 
thought  out  the  future. 

How  slight  the  evidence  that  connected 
her  with  that  old  story,  and  yet  how  clear 
it  all  seemed  to  him !  Would  any  one  else, 
could  any  one  else,  ever  trace  it  as  he  did  ? 
He  shuddered  while  he  wondered  how  much 
of  the  sin  and  shame  of  it  all  had  been  blot 
ted  out  in  the  two  generations  that  stood 


198  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

between  time  present  and  that  dreadful  past ! 
The  boundaries  of  his  own  dishonor  seemed 
limitless.  An  immeasurable  waste  lay  be 
tween  him  and  the  long-accumulated  pride  of 
his  'ancestors.  Revolt  swept  like  a  passion 
ate  tornado  through  his  soul,  and  then  left 
him  shorn  of  strength.  In  the  weakness  that 
followed,  a  boundless  pity  took  possession  of 
him.  It  was  for  her  who  was  bound  to  him 
by  every  tie  of  love  and  honor.  How  he  loved 
her  !  The  vitality  of  his  great  affection  could 
never  be  destroyed,  for  all  the  chivalry  of  his 
nature  gathered  to  the  defence  of  it.  He  had 
incurred  a  responsibility  on  her  behalf  which 
could  never  be  thrust  aside,  and  in  his  min 
gled  passion  and  pain  he  planned  only  to  car 
ry  the  burden  of  it  in  that  way  which  should 
never  disclose  to  her  the  secret  of  his  agony. 
He  could  never  tell  her  now  the  story  which 
had  led  his  mind  to  such  strange  results.  He 
must  obliterate  every  trace  of  the  evidence 
which  had  been  proof  to  him ;  and  as  this 
thought  came  to  him  a  murderous  instinct 
rose  in  his  heart  against  the  presentment  of 
that  face  smiling  down  from  the  walls  of  the 
old  house,  as  if  in  mockery  of  the  deed  for 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  199 

which  no  vengeance  could  be  wreaked  save 
upon  the  innocent  one.  Ah,  Bamma!  there 
was  the  pang !  Through  and  through  all  his 
loving  thought  of  her  there  ran  an  undercur 
rent  of  passionate  resentment  at  his  owniate. 

Soul -sick  and  weary,  he  raised  his  head. 
A  pair  of  soft  arms  encircled  his  neck,  and 
a  voice  whispered  his  name. 

No  tones  had  ever  been  invested  with  a  pro- 
founder  pathos ;  they  appealed  to  every  gen 
erous  instinct  of  his  heart. 

A  mist  clouded  his  vision,  and  as  he  drew 
her  close  in  his  arms  he  silently  registered 
anew  his  vow  to  love  and  cherish  her. 


200  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

JOHN  struggled  against  placing  an  exagger 
ated  estimate  upon  the  suspicion  which  con 
tinually  confronted  him.  Investigation  might 
have  disclosed  no  fact  confirming  its  truth, 
but  there  remained  always  the  other  tragic 
possibility.  Better  a  thousand  times  to  live 
with  doubt  than  come  face  to  face  with  what 
he  believed  to  be  the  shortened  measure  of 
his  honor. 

Reason  and  argument  were  powerless 
against  the  prejudices  which  the  habits  and 
modes  of  thought  of  generations  had  fixed. 
His  mind  had  drawn  its  nourishment  from 
traditions  so  authoritative  that  it  rose  again 
and  again  in  conflict  with  the  passionate  in 
stinct  of  his  heart,  and  but  slowly  accommo 
dated  itself  to  the  meaning  and  the  inevitable- 
ness  of  his  condition. 

The  struggle  with  the  influences  which  had 
moulded  his  character  was  long  and  bitter, 
and  freedom  from  the  galling  bondage  of  re- 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  2OI 

sentment  was  reached  only  in  a  state  of  moral 
inertia.  Some  perception  of  the  beauty  of 
that  generous,  self-forgetting  spirit  which  rises 
above  memories  of  wrong  manifested  itself  in 
his  bearing  towards  his  wife.  An  infinite  ten 
derness  pervaded  his  manner,  and  under  the 
magnetic  influence  of  her  sweet,  womanly 
ways  he  seemed  to  find  justification  of  his  po 
sition,  and  to  feel  the  supreme  pathos  of  hers. 

The  mental  torture  which  he  suffered  told 
upon  him  physically,  but  did  not  entirely  par 
alyze  the  energy  which  had  directed  itself  tow 
ards  the  restoration  of  the  old  estate. 

While  the  world  at  large  was  robbed  of  all 
delight  for  him,  while  a  disenchantment,  a 
sad  and  bitter  dreaminess  hung  over  all  his 
former  associations  and  pursuits,  he  permitted 
himself  one  hopeful  anticipation,  and  the  pros 
pect  of  taking  supervision  of  the  affairs  of  the 
old  plantation  grew  daily  more  inviting.  He 
roused  himself  to  an  active  interest  in  all  de 
tails  of  the  work  before  him,  projecting  great 
changes  and  improvements,  and  infusing  such 
life  and  vigor  into  the  dead  course  of  things 
around  him  that  one  might  prophesy  the  re 
generation  to  come. 


202  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

An  inflexible  sadness  settled  upon  his  hand 
some  face  which  all  of*  Bamma's  gentle  and 
winning  ways  could  not  dispel,  and  she  grew 
restless  and  unhappy  as  this  conviction  forced 
itself  upon  her.  The  days  passed  and  their 
stay  was  protracted  far  beyond  the  period  they 
had  anticipated. 

In  his  sad  self -absorption  he  forgot  how 
lonely  she  might  be  in  the  dreary  country- 
place,  and  was  filled  with  self-reproach  when 
one  morning  she  timidly  approached  the  sub 
ject  of  their  departure. 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  the  city !"  she  exclaimed, 
almost  with  tears,  "  and  forgive  me  for  wish 
ing  to  go." 

"  Certainly,"  he  responded.  "  We  will  go  at 
once.  I  have  been  cruel  to  keep  you  here  so 
long.  There  is  nothing  to  prevent  our  leav 
ing,  and  I  can  return  here  at  any  time  that  I 
am  needed." 

She  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  in 
childish  abandon. 

"  Ah,  now  we  will  be  happy  again !"  And  then 
growing  serious  once  more,  she  said,  thought 
fully,  "  It  must  be  a  long,  long  time  before  I  can 
consent  to  your  return  to  this  place.  There 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  2O3 

seems  to  be  an  ugly,  melancholy  spell  about 
it  that  I  cannot  exorcise.  See  !"  she  contin 
ued,  softly  touching  the  shadow  of  a  wrinkle 
between  his  eyes.  "  It  has  already  begun  to 
do  its  work.  We  must  go  immediately." 

"  Then  be  ready  at  a  moment's  warning," 
he  answered,  lightly. 

She  glided  away  with  that  rhythmic  move 
ment  peculiar  to  her,  eager  to  begin  prepara 
tions  for  departure. 

John  gazed  after  her  curiously.  He  had  fallen 
into  the  habit  of  studying  her  attentively,  and 
meditating  upon  every  action  and  trait  of  her 
character.  In  this  mental  process  there  was 
a  significance  attached  to  every  trifle.  He 
seemed  to  be  measuring  her  by  some  great 
need  apart  from  the  completeness  of  his  own 
affections,  and  the  result  was  reached  always 
with  a  deepening  of  that  melancholy  which 
shadowed  his  features. 

Bamma's  spirits  rose  to  a  state  of  joyous- 
ness  pleasant  to  see  with  each  degree  of  prep 
aration  for  leaving  the  place.  The  gathering 
together  of  the  pretty  bits  of  feminine  belong 
ings  which  had  been  brought  forth  from  the 
big  trunks  to  adorn  the  apartments ;  the  dis- 


2O4  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

mantling  of  the  toilet  at  which  Aunt  Priscilla 
had  gazed  with  amazement,  and  feared  to 
touch  ever  so  lightly  with  her  turkey-tail  dust 
er  ;  the  hunting  of  some  pieces  of  finery  for  a 
parting  present  to  the  old  negress — all  created 
a  pleasant  excitement.  There  was  a  happy 
light  in  her  eyes  and  a  bright  flush  upon  her 
cheeks  when,  near  the  close  of  the  next  day, 
she  found  herself  seated  in  the  carriage  which 
was  to  take  them  to  the  river  where  they  were 
to  meet  the  steamer  for  the  city.  Beyond  ques 
tion  she  was  glad  of  the  possible  lifting  of 
the  cloud  which  seemed  to  have  settled  upon 
John's  spirits,  but  she  was  happy  too,  in  that 
irresponsible  butterfly  fashion  which  chimes 
in  with  all  movement. 

Aunt  Priscilla  and  Uncle  Dan'l  busied 
themselves  officiously  about  the  packages  to 
be  stowed  away,  the  one  inspired  by  the  pros 
pect  of  the  withdrawal  of  a  master's  eye  too 
far-seeing  for  comfort,  and  the  other  by  the 
gift  of  a  gorgeous  shawl  which  she  intended 
to  display  at  the  next  meeting.  Several  ne 
gro  boys,  headed  by  Gabe  and  Johnson,  darted 
here  and  there  with  a  vague  idea  of  being  use 
ful,  ending  all  their  efforts  with  a  giggle  and 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

an  immediate  disappearance  from  the  scene, 
to  reappear  with  a  loud  guffaw  as  the  carriage 
rolled  away. 

"  They  have  gone  back  to  first  principles, 
despite  Uncle  Dan'l's  teachings,"  said  Bam- 
ma,  listening  to  their  voices  and  looking  back 
upon  them  with  a  smile. 

John  briefly  assented  and  then  was  silent. 
His  face  was  turned  towards  the  old  place. 
He  watched  it  recede  in  the  distance,  and 
along  the  level  surface  of  the  open  country 
before  him  marked  its  vanishing  lines.  As  it 
reached  that  point  where  it  rested  like  an  in 
distinguishable  blot  against  the  sky,  he  real 
ized  more  thoroughly  than  ever  how  much 
had  been  taken  out  of  his  life  and  buried 
there.  Through  a  blinding  mist  which  rose 
hastily  before  his  eyes,  he  saw  another  self, 
younger,  hopefuller  than  he,  for  whom  would 
come  no  resurrection  this  side  of  the  eternal 
heavens  which  seemed  to  touch  the  place  of 
sepulture. 

How  firmly  the  minutest  details  of  the  past 
few  months  were  fixed  in  his  memory !  and 
what  torture  keener  than  the  sudden  rush  of 
them  all  into  his  unwilling  thought ! 


2O6  TOWARDS   THE  GULF. 

Dual  voices  interpreted  his  emotion  to  his 
inner  ear :  one  a  wave  of  light  laughter  floating 
down  from  the  memorable  hours  of  his  earli 
est  love,  when  the  light  of  his  own  happiness 
was  reflected  in  every  eye ;  the  other  a  moan 
of  that  fathomless  despair  which  dashed  itself 
against  impassable  barriers. 

Low  down  upon  the  horizon  appeared  the 
sun.  Not  like  the  usual  insensate  copper 
globe  dropping  mechanically  below  the  bor 
der-line  of  vision,  but  as  a  gigantic  human  face 
with  a  derisive  smile  for  the  lesser  life  of  the 
world  below. 

A  soft  sigh  claimed  John's  attention.  He 
withdrew  his  gaze  slowly,  and  turned  towards 
Bamma.  It  was  the  first  genuine  sigh  he  had 
ever  heard  his  wife  utter,  and  it  struck  him 
painfully.  He  wondered  if,  with  a  woman's 
instinct,  she  had  divined  his  emotion. 

A  glance  disclosed  the  fact  that  her  thoughts 
were  not  with  him.  Her  sigh  was  no  sympa 
thetic  note  responsive  to  his  mood,  but  the 
audible  expression  of  a  sensitiveness  touched 
by  some  pleasant  visual  impression.  She  bent 
forward  with  slightly  parted  lips,  exclaiming, 

"  There,  it  has  gone  at  last !" 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  2O/ 

"  What  has  gone  ?"  he  asked,  slightly  star 
tled  by  her  enthusiasm ;  but  even  before  she 
explained,  he  had  caught  her  meaning  and 
turned  his  face  once  more  towards  the  west 
ern  sky. 

"  Isn't  it  lovely  ?"  she  continued.  "  Were 
you  not  watching  it  go  down  upon  the  old 
place  ?" 

He  paused  an  instant  before  he  replied. 
Consistent  with  the  jeering,  heartless  face  of 
the  great  orb  was  the  brilliant  after- glow,  a 
trail  of  red  and  yellow  splendors  sweeping  for 
a  moment  across  the  drifting  clouds,  and  then 
leaving  them  dark  and  dull  upon  the  leaden 
sky.  To  John's  mood  it  seemed  a  mocking 
radiance.  All  perception  of  its  beauty  was 
dimmed,  and  it  stirred  a  spirit  of  rebellion 
against  the  inscrutable  shadows  that  were 
deepening  around  and  within  him.  The  de 
spair  which  might  never  hope  for  direct  ex 
planation  sought  every  collateral  exposition. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  slowly  responding  to  her 
question,  in  a  tone  strangely  emotional.  "  I 
have  been  watching  it,  and  wondering  why  I 
should  ever  care  to  see  it  rise  again  upon  my 
old  home." 


2O8  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  John !"  she  exclaimed,  with  a  long,  low,  lin 
gering  note  of  surprise,  "what  change  has 
come  upon  you  ?  I  fancied  you  loved  the  old 
place." 

"  Yes,  I  do  love  it,"  he  said,  passionately. 
"  How  could  I  help  loving  it  ?  I  drew  love  of 
it  in  with  the  first  breath  that  proclaimed  me 
a  living  Morant.  It  was  the  heritage  of  my 
family.  It  cradled  the  hopes  and  ambitions 
of  my  generation,  and  if  it  were  a  thousand 
fold  greater  wilderness  than  it  is,  I  would  treas 
ure  every  foot  of  its  soil.  I  have  linked  my 
fortune  with  it  again,  and  will  struggle  as  oth 
ers  did  before  me,  and  will  probably  fail  as 
they  did,  handicapped  by  burdens  not  of  my 
own  choosing." 

By  no  intuitive  knowledge  could  Bamma 
follow  his  mood.  She  could  only  place  her 
small  hand  in  his,  like  a  child  who  hazards  a 
caress  when  it  does  not  comprehend. 

The  touch  of  the  little  palm  caused  him  a 
pang  of  keen  self-reproach.  He  strove  to  gain 
mastery  of  himself,  feeling  something  of  the 
deep  shame  one  should  feel  who  strikes  at  a 
defenceless  thing  and  sees  it  turn  with  pathet 
ic  gesture  to  caress  the  hand  raised  against  it. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  209 

The  chivalric  sentiments  which  were  the 
supreme  guide  of  his  life  recalled  him  to  less 
bitter  thoughts.  At  once  the  scene  changed 
for  him.  Nature  seemed  no  longer  unfriendly. 

They  were  passing  through  a  wild  and 
swampy  woodland  near  the  river.  The  main 
road  had  been  cut  like  the  path  of  a  cyclone, 
straight  and  clear  through  the  heavy  timber. 
It  was  occasionally  obstructed  by  under 
growth,  and  now  and  then  by  a  fallen  log, 
which  drove  them  away  from  the  highway 
into  gloomy  depths  of  the  wood,  where  the 
gray  moss  swung  down  from  swaying  branch 
es  like  grim  skeletons  of  vegetation.  Surfaces 
which  appeared  deceptively  dry  were  moist 
places,  into  which  the  carriage  -  wheels  sank, 
leaving  behind  them  long  silvery  rivulets, 
meeting  like  shining  threads  in  the  dim  per 
spective. 

The  voices  of  the  forest  were  hushed  as 
they  entered  its  depths  ;  but  as  they  rolled 
out  again  into  the  open  way  the  soft  glow  of 
the  hidden  sun  still  rested  upon  the  scene, 
and  from  every  trunk  and  branch  the  shrill 
katydids  sounded  their  notes,  and  above  and 
below  their  din  were  major  and  minor  notes 


210  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

in  infinite  variety.  As  they  advanced  there 
came  into  view  a  firm,  beautifully  level  road, 
then  a  green-swarded  levee,  and  just  beyond, 
sweeping  against  the  frail  -  looking  barrier 
which  held  it  in  bounds,  the  mighty  river. 

Those  only  who  have  lived  upon  its  banks, 
and  have  lost  for  a  time  the  sight  of  the  grand 
old  Mississippi,  can  understand  the  home-feel 
ing  which  a  glimpse  of  its  waters  brings.  Full 
of  lawless  caprice,  alternately  kind  and  cruel, 
it  possesses  a  peculiar  fascination  for*  all  who 
have  once  dwelt  beside  it.  As  deep  and  strong 
as  human  passion  when  pent  within  the  lim 
its  raised  by  man's  experience,  it  betrays  upon 
the  surface  no  trace  of  turbulence,  no  evidence 
of  the  fierce  undercurrent  which  is  sweeping 
it  to  the  sea ;  but  once  the  barriers  are  broken, 
it  riots  in  heartless  destruction. 

With  all  its  changes,  its  wholesale  oblitera 
tion  of  boundaries,  its  swallowing  up  of  men's 
substance,  John  Morant  loved  the  river.  A 
hundred  times  mightier  than  human  passion 
it  now  seemed  to  him.  The  sight  of  it  calmed 
his  troubled  thoughts.  Come  what  might  into 
his  life,  its  current  must  flow  like  that  of  the 
river,  with  all  its  accidental  burdens,  surely, 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  211 

irresistibly  to  the  great  gulf  fixed  for  its  end 
ing.  For  the  moment  accepting  the  inevita 
ble,  all  bitterness  seemed  to  take  flight. 

He  clasped  his  wife's  hand  with  a  firm, 
warm  grasp.  They  could  but  drift  together, 
whatever  the  gulf  might  be  towards  which 
they  were  drifting. 


212  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

IN  the  year  following  John  Morant's  mar 
riage,  his  friends  all  agreed  upon  one  point, 
that  a  curious  change  had  come  upon  him. 
The  frank  gayety  which  had  made  him  the 
pleasantest  of  companions  was  gone.  In  its 
place  was  a  grave  listlessness  which  excited 
comment.  The  despondent  state  of  mind 
which  it  suggested  was  not  compatible  with 
his  surroundings,  for  it  was  generally  con 
ceded  that  few  men  possessed  greater  advan 
tages  in  those  things  which  help  to  make  life 
move  very  smoothly.  Wealth,  fortunate  ties, 
and  the  consequent  good -will  of  the  social 
world,  were  circumstances  calculated  to  make 
any  failure  of  happiness  conspicuous.  Vari 
ous  plausible  reasons  were  suggested  regarding 
it,  but  none  quite  satisfied  those  who  knew 
him.  His  domestic  relations  seemed  perfect. 
Evidently  the  cause  of  trouble  was  not  to  be 
searched  for  or  found  in  that  direction.  No 
positive  clew  ever  presented  itself,  and  finally 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  213 

most  interested  friends  admitted  that  it  was 
an  unsolvable  problem,  and  one  which  they 
tired  of  trying  to  solve. 

And  yet  they  were  sometimes  nearer  the 
solution  of  the  mystery  than  they  supposed. 

Among  his  friends  were  some  who  gave 
thought  to  the  vital  questions  of  the  day,  and 
conversation  often  touched  upon  the  subject 
which  was  always  cruelly  present  in  John 
Morant's  mind. 

His  need  of  kindly  counsel  and  sympathy 
wras  great,  and  sometimes  the  temptation  was 
strong  to  place  his  case  fairly  before  some 
one  who  might  aid  him  in  the  reconstruction 
of  his  shattered  self-respect.  There  seemed 
a  possible  chance  of  dulling  his  pain  through 
such  confidence,  even  if  his  degradation  was 
made  more  clear  to  him ;  yet  pride  kept  him 
silent. 

In  all  discussions  he  listened  with  bated 
breath  to  the  voices  of  small  philosophers 
and  greater  ones,  to  the  voices  of  men  with 
views  discarded  in  the  Middle  Ages,  to  those 
with  one  line  of  conduct  for  themselves  and 
another  for  the  world  at  large ;  but  beyond 
all  philosophy,  above  all  protestations  of  phi- 


214  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

lanthropy,  rose  the  still,  small,  cruel  voices 
of  hereditary  prepossessions  and  prejudices, 
growing  sharper  and  more  ferocious  with 
every  struggle  to  repress  them. 

"  How  can  I  be  reconciled  ?"  was  his  per 
petual  but  silent  wail — "  how  can  I  be  recon 
ciled  ?" 

Notwithstanding  the  gentleness  and  ten 
derness  of  his  manner  towards  his  wife,  she 
felt  the  shadow  of  the  change  that  had  come 
upon  him. 

Almost  imperceptibly  there  had  grown 
upon  her  a  sense  of  mystery  in  their  relation 
to  each  other.  Every  available  feminine 
charm  against  unknowable  trouble,  her  bright 
est  smiles,  her  tenderest  caresses,  were  futile 
to  banish  it.  It  settled  down  upon  the  house 
hold  like  an  unbidden  guest,  determined  to 
make  the  most  of  an  unwarranted  intrusion. 
It  rested  in  the  beautiful  drawing-room,  even 
when  they  were  filled  with  as  light-hearted 
material  as  ever  gathered  together  to  drive 
away  care.  It  sat  down  beside  Bamma  when 
she  ate  and  drank.  It  took  its  place  promi 
nently  in  the  cosey  library. 

Yes,  there  was  not  a  shadow  of  doubt  that 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  215 

the  library  was  its  favorite  haunt.  It  was 
there  that  it  gathered  force  and  thence  dif 
fused  itself.  Tears  rose  in  Bamma's  eyes  as 
she  thought  how  pleasant  a  place  the  library 
might  be  and  was  not.  When  the  lights  were 
turned  up,  the  fire  burning  brightly  on  the 
hearth,  and  John  had  selected  his  book  from 
the  broad,  low,  convenient  shelves,  the  out 
ward  charm  of  the  situation  was  great,  but  the 
brightness  and  beauty  of  it  became  daily  less 
effective. 

She  was  proficient  in  music,  elegant  in  man 
ners,  and  charming  in  conversation;  but  Bam- 
ma  had  never  cared  for  books.  She  had  never 
needed  them.  They  had  only  existed  for  her 
as  the  inevitable  ornaments  of  certain  desig 
nated  spaces.  To  have  taken  them  from  their 
places  would  have  been  simply,  so  far  as  she 
was  concerned,  distasteful  to  her  sense  of  or 
der,  destroying  the  sequence  of  symmetrically 
arranged  series.  If  she  chanced  occasionally 
to  remark  a  gilded  name  upon  a  cover,  it  con 
veyed  little  or  nothing  to  her  narrow  literary 
experience.  Thus  ignorant  of  that  which 
claimed  a  large  share  of  her  husband's  atten 
tion,  she  was  lono^  incurious  re^ardinsr  the 


216  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

books  which  absorbed  him ;  but  in  time  they 
became  the  centre  of  a  strange  interest  for  her. 

Something  of  the  darkness  which  was  clos 
ing  around  her  certainly  emanated  from  the 
sombre  bindings  and  rustling  leaves  over  which 
her  husband  bent  with  contracted  brow  and 
contracted  heart.  Quatrefages  on  the  Negro 
Races,  Gobineau  on  the  Inequality  of  Races, 
Ribout  on  Heredity,  Perier  on  Ethnical  Cross 
ings,  Knox  on  Race,  and  others.  Such  per 
plexing  books  !  Even  when  she  had  conned 
the  title-pages  and  turned  the  leaves,  what 
could  they  tell  her?  What  could  she  ever 
come  to  know  of  Ethnology,  Heredity,  and 
all  the  profound  enigmas  of  Race  ?  Obscure 
ly  apprehended  as  they  must  ever  remain,  how 
hopeless  the  task  of  fathoming  the  interest 
which  led  her  husband  to  devote  his  attention 
to  them !  And  yet  she  felt  his  studies  were 
inimical  to  her.  The  untutored  little  brain 
could  never  reach  scientific  causes ;  but  even 
unlettered  instinct  might  comprehend  effects. 

The  sinking  of  her  husband's  attention  in 
the  ponderous  volumes  was  like  the  with 
drawal  of  the  sunshine  she  loved  so  well;  and 
there  were  times  when  John  Morant,  rousing 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  2 1/ 

himself  from  a  despairing  pursuit  of  knowl 
edge  which  should  satisfy  him  of  one  truth, 
forgot  Nature's  tyranny  of  Selection,  her  per 
sistent  preservation  of  types,  and  all  the  phi 
losophy  of  the  scientific  world,  in  his  tender, 
remorseful  contemplation  of  the  pretty  little 
figure  which  sat  by  his  fireside  and  smiled  or 
sighed  at  his  will. 

But  it  was  not  often  that  they  were  uninter 
rupted  in  their  evenings  at  home.  The  social 
life  which  had  been  long  disturbed,  and  was 
still  undergoing  radical  changes,  had  not  be 
come  so  fixed  in  the  new  forms  that  the  pleas 
ant,  easy  hospitality  of  one  not  far  removed 
from  a  hospitable  generation  could  fail  to 
draw  around  him  an  agreeable  circle  of  friends. 

Among  those  admitted  to  intimacy  in  the 
household,  who  found  John's  library  a  particu 
larly  pleasant  spot,  were  two  men  for  whom  he 
entertained  the  highest  regard.  No  two  per 
sons  could  have  been  found  less  adapted  for 
a  common  friendship  than  the  Rev.  Mr.  Shri- 
ver  and  Dr.  Edward  Dickson.  Entirely  op 
posite  in  mental  constitution,  differently  edu 
cated,  holding  antagonistic  opinions  on  every 
subject,  hopeless  of  agreement  on  any  point, 


218  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

each  strong  in  his  own  way,  the  theologian 
almost  passionate  in  the  maintenance  of  his 
faith,  the  physician  keenly  critical  of  old  be 
liefs,  but  broad  and  more  than  liberal  towards 
new  ones,  they  might  have  swung  quietly  into 
different  orbits  but  for  John  Morant.  His 
home  was  their  common  centre  of  attraction ; 
there  they  met,  repulsed  each  other,  and  came 
again  to  a  collision  of  contradictory  forces. 
With  the  instinct  of  a  religious  patriot  the 
minister  was  always  ready  to  respond  to  the 
wave  of  a  radical  red  flag,  and  one  always  ap 
peared  to  be  flaunting  itself  in  the  cool,  steady 
glances  of  the  young  physician. 

John  Morant  watched  with  some  interest 
the  rousing  of  this  gladiatorial  spirit,  for  by 
subtle  leading  he  could  sometimes  bring  his 
two  friends  together  in  opposition  upon  themes 
of  moment  to  himself.  Most  frequently  he 
had  only  a  dull,  despairing  sense  of  the  weight 
of  traditional  reasoning  against  advanced  sen 
timent;  but  now  and  then  every  fibre  of  his 
nature  thrilled  to  some  eloquent  outburst  of 
that  enthusiasm  of  humanity  which  often  led 
his  medical  friend  to  relax  all  rules,  abandon 
all  special  precepts  as  authoritative  guides  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  2IQ 

conscience  and  conduct,  that  he  might  follow 
only  the  generous  impulses  of  his  always  gen 
erous  heart. 

It  chanced  on  one  occasion  that  the  minis 
ter  was  called  upon  to  deliver  an  address  to 
his   congregation    upon   a   great   missionary 
cause.    It  was  a  theme  peculiarly  fitted  to  his 
temperament,  an  opportunity  of  indulging  his 
warlike  zeal.    Delivered  upon  a  day  when  he 
was  not  limited,  as  upon  the  Sabbath,  by  the 
time  consumed  in  the  forms  and  ceremonies 
of  his  church,  he  was  at  his  best  in  recalling 
the  historic  battle-fields  of  his  faith,  in  waving 
the  banners  aloft  with  an  encouraging  cry,  and 
urging  the  Christian  advance.    His  passionate 
peroration  thrilled  his  people,  and  waked  the 
small,  keen,  alert  senior- warden  to  more  than 
usual  interest  in  the  financial  result.     In  the 
last  peal  of  the  organ  which  dismissed  his  al 
most  spellbound  auditors,  there  seemed  to  be 
a  triumphant  note  thoroughly  in  accord  with 
the  minister's  masterful  sense  of  his  own  able 
leadership  in  the  march  upon  hostile  legions. 
The  spirit  of  his  address  lingered  with  him 
long  after  its  delivery,  and  gave  an  increased 
aggressiveness  to  manner  and  tone  formed  at 


220  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

no  time  upon  a  model  of  humility.  He  was 
prepared  to  make  as  vigorous  an  advance  upon 
heresy  as  he  would  have  made  upon  ignorance, 
and  there  was  something  stimulating  to  this 
temper  in  the  atmosphere  of  John  Morant's 
library,  when  he  entered  there  and  found  him 
self  confronted  by  Dr.  Dickson. 

In  the  small  extension  apartment,  separated 
from  the  library  by  a  draped  archway,  Bamma 
sat  at  her  piano  playing  a  characteristic  com 
position  of  Gottschalk's.  Its  inimitable  mim 
icry,  catching  the  very  twang  of  an  instrument 
whose  vibrating  strings  seemed  to  sound  all 
through  the  unvaried  cadences  of  the  simple 
harmony,  was  all  the  more  remarkable  because 
of  Bamma's  delightful  interpretation.  It  was 
instinct  with  life.  One  felt  the  movement  of 
invisible  dancers,  the  marking  of  the  rhythmic 
measure  by  light-tapping  feet,  and  almost  ex 
pected  to  hear  a  merry  echoing  "  Juba"  follow 
the  brilliant  closing  chords. 

"  Bravo  !"  said  the  doctor,  half  under  his 
breath,  as  a  deep,  resonant  bass  sounded  the 
introduction  of  another  measure,  the  famous 
Bamboula,  while  John  glanced  towards  his  wife 
with  a  sensation  of  renewed  pain.  What  pe- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  221 

culiar  charm  did  she  find  in  the  Creole  com 
poser's  music  ?  And  how  she  abandoned  her 
self  to  it !  So  rapidly  and  powerfully  did  her 
delicate  fingers  give  the  quick,  jerking  move 
ment  of  the  "  Danse  des  Negres,"  that  each 
sharp  staccato  note  seemed  a  fresh  inspira 
tion,  thrilling  nerve  and  muscle  with  a  dancing 
madness. 

The  fantastic  music  illy  suited  the  minis 
ter's  mood.  To  the  grand  organ  notes  which 
still  moved  him,  it  was  like  a  sportive  insult. 
He  responded  to  the  doctor's  exclamation  of 
pleasure  with  the  assurance  that  he  greatly 
admired  and  appreciated  Mrs.  Morant's  skil 
ful  performance,  but  was  inclined  to  criticise 
her  selections.  He  had  little  patience  with  a 
composer  who  could  waste  his  talents  npon 
anything  as  heathenish  and  devoid  of  merit 
as  a  negro  melody. 

"  It  is  the  province  of  the  artist,"  said  the 
doctor,  "  to  preserve  the  distinctive  features 
of  a  departing  generation." 

"  And  the  province  of  the  critic,"  responded 
the  minister,  "  to  condemn  whatever  may  be 
calculated  to  vitiate  the  taste  of  the  rising 
one."  Whereupon  the  doctor  intimated  that 


222  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

the  standard  of  taste  was  as  far  from  being 
thoroughly  established  as  its  ethical  relations 
were  from  being  beyond  dispute  ;  and  with 
that  began  a  discussion  so  prolonged  that 
Bamma,  no  longer  inspirited  by  the  conscious 
ness  of  pleased  attention,  softly  rose,  and  clos 
ing  the  draperies  of  the  archway,  gave  herself 
up  to  vagrant  medleys  and  thrilling  little  rou 
lades,  always  ending  in  pathetic  diminuendos. 
Through  the  ensuing  conversation  they  occa 
sionally  might  be  heard  as  a  faint  running  ac 
companiment  to  thoughts  and  words,  which 
flowed  more  freely  at  the  sound. 

As  may  well  be  imagined,  when  the  minis 
ter  was  given  a  fair  opportunity,  the  discus 
sion  could  not  confine  itself  to  one  question. 
As  it  passed  beyond  the  original  limits,  John 
noticed  that  Dr.  Dickson  was  less  clever  than 
usual  in  either  offensive  or  defensive  argu 
ment.  He  yielded  to  fits  of  abstraction,  rous 
ing  himself  at  times  with  apparent  effort. 
Something  beyond  the  minister's  logic  had 
evidently  impressed  him,  though  he  appeared 
inclined  to  allow  Mr.  Shriver  the  pleasure  of 
believing  that  it  had  been  invincible. 

In  the  midst  of  an  earnest  discussion  upon 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  223 

the  influence  for  good  of  an  open  profession 
of  faith,  a  solemn  declaration  of  principles, 
the  doctor  suddenly  drew  a  long,  deep  breath, 
stretched  himself  wearily  in  his  chair,  and 
clasping  his  hands  behind  his  head,  inter 
rupted  the  minister  with  the  remark  "  that 
personal  influences  were  mightier  than  logi 
cal  ones  in  developing  the  good  in  man ;  that 
spiritual  struggles  were  oftener  determined 
by  sympathy  than  by  creeds." 

"  The  principle  of  sympathy  may  become 
too  active,"  said  the  minister,  u  and  lead  one 
into  very  grave  error.  It  is  necessary  to  thor 
oughly  fortify  one's  self  against  the  contagion 
of  misplaced  compassion." 

"  I  wonder,"  said  the  doctor,  with  a  slight 
pause,  as  if  doubtful  whether  he  should  pro 
ceed —  "I  wonder  what  you  would  think  of 
Royston's  case !" 

Knowing  his  friend  as  one  who  took  upon 
himself  the  burdens  of  much  of  the  suffering 
humanity  with  which  his  profession  associated 
him,  John  Morant  felt  that  he  had  found  a 
clew  to  the  unusual  gravity  which  had  taken 
possession  of  the  doctor  on  this  occasion.  Un 
doubtedly,  Royston's  case  had  been  prolific  of 


224  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

troublesome  thought.  The  minister  waited  a 
moment  for  the  doctor  to  continue,  and  then 
remarked  that  he  was  quite  willing  to  express 
an  opinion  should  the  doctor  care  to  explain 
the  case  in  question,  though  his  opinion  might 
chance  to  conflict  with  the  one  entertained  by 
the  doctor  himself.  Something  like  a  chal 
lenge  expressed  itself  in  the  minister's  tone, 
and  there  was  nothing  left  for  the  doctor  but 
to  tell  Royston's  story. 

"  You  will  remember,"  said  he,  turning  tow 
ards  John,  "  that  several  evenings  ago  I  was 
suddenly  sent  for  on  an  urgent  call.  It  came 
from  Royston.  He  was  a  stranger  to  me,  and 
I  found  him  to  be  a  man  utterly  broken  down 
by  hard  work  and  heart  disease.  His  sur 
roundings  were  peculiar,  and  excited  my  curi 
osity.  I  determined  to  know  more  of  him, 
and  to-day,  after  prescribing  for  him,  I  induced 
him  to  talk  of  himself,  to  tell  me  his  story,  a 
story  of  such  unexampled  self  -  sacrifice  that 
one  may  well  be  in  doubt  whether  his  convic 
tions  have  made  him  a  fool  or  a  hero." 

The  doctor  was  a  restless  man  when  much 
moved,  as  he  now  seemed  to  be  by  his  own 
words,  and  rising  from  his  chair,  paced  a  few 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  22$ 

steps  back  and  forth  in  the  room,  stopping  an 
instant  to  listen  to  a  melody,  which  became 
more  sonorous  as  he  approached  the  archway, 
and  then,  once  more  seating  himself,  resumed 
the  story. 

"  He  was  once  a  wealthy  planter  in  the  sug 
ar  country.  Morally  he  was  neither  better 
nor  worse  than  his  class ;  but  he  must  have 
been  a  brave  and  gallant  fellow,  for  he  had 
served  with  distinction  as  a  soldier.  His  fort 
unes  were  wrecked,  his  plantation  was  over 
flowed  and  caved  into  the  Mississippi  until  the 
remnant  of  it  was  seized  and  sold  for  debt,  and 
he  found  himself  thrown  upon  the  world  an 
educated,  gentlemanly  idler,  entirely  without 
resources.  In  the  easy  life  which  he  had  led, 
he  had  incurred  certain  grave  responsibilities, 
and  his  changed  condition  caused  them  to 
press  upon  him  heavily.  One  of  his  old  slaves, 
then  dying  of  consumption,  was  the  mother  of 
four  beautiful  little  quadroon  girls.  His  rela 
tion  to  them  was  no  secret.  With  her  dying 
breath  the  poor  mulattress  besought  him  to 
save  them  from  vice  and  crime,  and  rear  them 
religiously.  What  was  he  to  do  with  them? 
Through  many  influences  he  had  become  a 
15 


226  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

sincere  Christian,  with  new  ideals,  new  views, 
new  readings  of  humanity,  and  the  way  seemed 
open  for  him  only  to  unique  suffering.  He 
could  not  raise  them  to  his  level.  Only  by 
sinking  to  theirs  could  he  always  be  with  them, 
watching  over  them,  moulding  their  habits, 
and  by  personal  influences  making  their  mor 
al  discernment  clear.  He  cast  his  lot  with 
them.  Deserted  and  execrated  by  all  his  old 
friends  and  relatives  he  began  teaching,  and 
supported  them  in  an  humble  way.  Driven 
out  of  white  schools  by  the  feeling  against  him, 
he  opened  a  negro  school  and  worked  away, 
solitary  and  alone  but  for  negro  associates. 
Amid  all  his  profound  humiliation  he  is  still 
an  elegant  gentleman  in  speech,  sentiments, 
and  manners ;  but  for  so  long  has  he  been  de 
nied  the  companionship  of  his  equals,  that  his 
heart  is  a  great  reservoir  of  pain,  and  he  will 
die,  perhaps,  to-morrow  as  thoroughly  despised 
of  men  as  if  he  had  betrayed  trusts  and  ruined 
other  lives  rather  than  his  own." 

John  remarked,  with  a  depth  of  feeling  in 
his  tone  which  made  the  doctor  scan  his  face 
curiously,  that  in  forsaking  the  obligations  of 
his  birth  the  man  had  betrayed  a  very  sacred 


TOWARDS  THE  OULF.  2 27 

trust,  while  Mr.  Shriver  looked  grave  and 
thoughtful  as  he  acknowledged  that  the  case 
appealed  strongly  to  his  sympathy ;  that  the 
man's  carelessness  of  his  personal  lot,  except 
for  its  advancement  of  a  possible  good,  estab 
lished  a  certain  nobility  of  motive;  but  in 
abandoning  the  brotherhood  of  his  race  he 
had  incurred,  and  must  accept  and  suffer,  a 
heavy  penalty. 

"  Strange,"  said  the  doctor,  "  how  intolerant 
that  question  of  race  makes  one  !  I  suppose," 
continued  he,  directing  his  words  to  Mr.  Shri 
ver,  "  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  you  to 
entertain  the  idea  that  the  barriers  which 
Royston  overleaped,  and  which  forever  after 
wards  shut  him  out  from  his  kind,  should  nev 
er  have  been  erected?" 

"  Not  for  one  instant  could  I  tolerate  any 
levelling  opinions,"  said  Mr.  Shriver,  obedient 
at  once  to  his  combative  instincts  and  his  prin 
ciples.  "  I  recognize  too  clearly  the  wisdom 
which  has  builded  these  barriers  ever  to  calmly 
contemplate  any  question  of  their  right  to  be." 

John  Morant's  profound  attention  was  fixed 
upon  the  arguments  which  followed  this  asser 
tion. 


228  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

Mr.  Shriver  stoutly  contended,  with  Gobi- 
neau  and  other  naturalists,  that  all  admixture 
of  races  is  an  abomination ;  that  they  differ 
organically  and  radically  from  each  other  like 
wine,  milk,  and  water,  and  that  any  mingling 
degrades  the  higher  type  without  raising  the 
inferior  type  an  iota.  On  the  contrary,  Dr. 
Dickson  insisted,  with  Serres  and  kindred  phi 
losophers,  that  civilization  everywhere  gains 
by  contact,  mixture,  and  union.  In  the  strug 
gle  which  ensues  the  more  perfect  type  always 
prevails,  and  assimilates  all  the  others  to  it 
self,  providing  a  new  composite  form,  by  which 
the  average  level  of  humanity  is  always  ele 
vated  towards  higher  standards. 

"  If  this  were  not  scientifically  true,"  added 
Dickson,  "  still  the  spirit  of  caste  which  is  en 
gendered  by  the  enforced  separation  of  the 
races,  whether  by  law  or  by  public  opinion,  is 
inimical  to  the  Christ  spirit,  and  must  inevita 
bly  give  way  to  the  development  of  a  living 
Christianity." 

"Not  at  all,"  said  Mr.  Shriver;  "caste  is 
only  an  expression  in  the  social  world  of  or 
ganic  and  immutable  differences  which  God 
and  Nature,  or  rather  which  God  for  Nature, 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  22Q 

has  established  as  the  true  order  of  things. 
The  human  body  is  the  wisest  book  of  phi 
losophy  next  to  the  .Word  of  God.  It  is  the 
true  socialism  in  living  operation.  Its  various 
parts  and  organs  differ  immensely  in  dignity, 
use,  beauty,  and  vitality,  but  each  knows  its 
own  place  and  function,  and  although  thor 
oughly  co-operative  with  all,  never  attempts 
to  encroach  upon  the  forms  or  powers  of  any 
of  the  others.  So  it  should  be  with  the  human 
races.  An  amalgamated  or  composite  race  is 
like  the  blood,  nervous  fluid,  bile,  etc.,  all  churn 
ed  up  together,  a  monstrosity  productive  of 
disease  and  death,  not  of  life.  The  highest 
Christianity  will  have  been  attained  when  the 
races,  pursuing  their  radically  and  perpetually 
distinct  lines  of  destiny,  shall  be  spiritually 
united  in  bonds  of  charity  and  brotherhood." 
The  doctor  did  not  seem  inclined  to  pursue 
the  question.  Evidently  he  felt,  as  he  sug 
gested  to  Mr.  Shriver,  that  it  was  harder  to 
break  with  prejudice  and  conquer  convention 
ality  than  to  enter  upon  a  conflict  with  the 
fiercest  heathen  that  ever  tempted  Christian 
conversion.  He  rose  to  go,  and  was  soon  fol 
lowed  by  Mr.  Shriver. 


230  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

Left  alone,  John  Morant  remained  a  few 
moments  lost  in  bitter  thought,  then  with  a 
sigh  turned  to  his  books.  He  took  up  a  vol 
ume  on  Heredity  and  soon  became  immersed 
in  its  pages.  He  read  not  only  of  the  trans 
mission  of  mental  qualities  in  both  animals 
and  men,  but  of  the  return  of  psychological 
conditions  in  children  and  grandchildren  in 
the  most  unexpected  manner;  of  a  woman 
seized  with  a  sudden  and  irresistible  desire  to 
steal  because  her  grandfather  had  been  a  thief; 
of  a  man  affected  with  an  unaccountable  and 
ineradicable  dread  of  going  into  water  whose 
grandfather  had  been  nearly  drowned,  and 
ever  afterwards  dreaded  the  sight  of  that  ele 
ment.  He  suddenly  threw  the  book  upon  the 
table  and  uttered  a  low  cry  of  pain  and  hor 
ror.  A  sensitive  chord  of  memory  had  been 
touched,  and  he  recalled  the  singular  feeling 
of  dread  and  terror  which  Bamma  had  expe 
rienced  upon  surveying  the  old  deserted  slave- 
yard  on  her  first  visit  to  his  father  and  sister. 
Neither  she  nor  her  mother  had  ever  been  in 
such  a  place,  or  knew  anything  personally  of 
its  horrible  surroundings  and  experiences. 
But  the  grandmother  might  have  been  bought 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  231 

out  of  that  very  slave-pen  by  Billy  Bush,  and 
transferred  to  his  plantation.  It  was  a  clear 
case  of  psychological  transmission.  Connect 
ing  this  startling  explanation  with  Celine's 
positive  conviction,  with  the  distinct  likeness 
of  his  wife  to  the  portrait  of  the  wicked  old 
planter,  and  with  the  two  sets  of  beads  from 
the  mounds  on  the  plantation,  showing  that 
his  wife's  mother  had  come  from  that  locality, 
he  struck  his  clinched  fist  against  his  fore 
head,  and  exclaimed,  aloud, 

"  Tis  all  too  true  !  She  is  a  white  black 
bird,  and  has  no  mate." 

What  was  his  life  worth,  now  that  it  was 
all  plain  to  him  ?  His  head  sank  upon  his 
arm.  Not  even  alone,  with  no  eye  upon  him, 
could  he  bear  to  raise  his  own  eyes  and  feel 
the  scorching  drops  just  ready  to  fall.  Was 
he  becoming  womanish  ?  To  what  depths 
might  he  not  yet  sink  ?  "  Poor  Royston  !" 
But  his  degradation  had  been  proportionate 
to  his  transgression. 

The  room  grew  strangely  silent.  What 
was  it  that  he  missed  ?  His  thoughts  invol 
untarily  suspended  themselves,  and  he  was 
conscious  only  of  a  dull,  throbbing  pain,  and 


232  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

the  fact  that  the  melody  which  had  all  along 
forced  itself  upon  his  attention  had  been 
hushed. 

Bamma  had  been  startled  by  his  first  faint 
cry.  Now  she  stood  in  the  open  archway,  to 
which  his  back  was  turned.  That  agonized 
expression  which  she  had  heard,  whose  mean 
ing  she  could  not  comprehend,  that  utter  aban 
donment  of  manner,  what  did  it  mean  ?  She 
trembled  violently,  and  remained  perfectly 
still,  half  paralyzed  with  an  inexplicable  horror. 

John  felt  that  she  was  there,  and  that  he 
must  face  her  calmly.  He  turned  towards  her, 
and  the  feeling  which  had  held  her  spellbound 
gave  place  to  higher  courage  as  she  met  her 
husband's  glance. 

She  advanced  towards  him.  Her  face  was 
flushed,  and  her  eyes  more  brilliant  than  he 
ever  remembered  to  have  seen  them,  while  a 
firm  compression  of  the  mouth  took  away  the 
look  of  soft,  womanly  indecision  which  it  usu 
ally  wore.  He  shuddered  as  it  flashed  upon 
him  how  like  she  was  to  that  old  picture  in 
the  deserted  house.  She  seemed  conscious 
of  that  thrill,  and  drew  herself  slightly  farther 
away. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  233 

"John,"  she  said,  in  a  clear,  steady  voice, 
"  will  you  tell  me  of  your  trouble  ?" 

"  I  cannot,"  he  responded,  feeling  in  some 
way  a  strange,  new  resolution  in  her  manner. 

"  Who  knows  of  it  ?" 

"  No  one." 

"  Not  even  your  father  ?" 

-  No." 

"  Nor  your  sister?" 

"  Nor  my  sister." 

"Nor  Celine?" 

He  was  startled.  Could  he,  with  her  steady, 
bright  eyes  fixed  upon  him,  answer  falsely? 
For  the  sake  of  those  bright  eyes  he  did  an 
swer. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  tell." 

Suddenly  she  threw  her  arms  about  his 
neck,  and  covered  his  forehead  with  kisses. 
Bamma  said  nothing  more,  but  after  that  she 
became  possessed  of  one  fixed  idea  which 
often  translated  itself  into  words— 

"  It  is  through  Celine  I  shall  hear  it" 


234  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

THE  plantation  claimed  much  of  John  Mo- 
rant's  time  and  attention.  He  made  many 
and  prolonged  visits  to  it,  and  became  daily 
more  absorbed  in  its  interests.  There  was  a 
pleasant  sense  of  duty  done  in  overlooking 
the  details  of  his  new  planting  ventures,  and 
with  it  relief  from  burdensome  thought.  In 
the  fresh  green  fields,  under  the  open  sky,  he 
lost  the  feeling  of  man's  nearness  and  all  the 
responsibilities  of  his  social  relations.  There 
were  even  moments  when  he  gained  a  sense 
of  higher  companionship,  and  came  almost  to 
that  whispered  confidence  which  sweetens  the 
cup  whose  first  draught  is  bitterness  on  the 
lips. 

Bamma  protested  against  his  frequent  ab 
sence,  and  on  one  occasion,  when  he  was  mak 
ing  preparations  for  a  hasty  trip,  she  urged 
him  to  allow  her  to  go  with  him. 

He  hesitated  a  moment  as  he  saw  how 
much  in  earnest  she  was,  and  then  declared 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  235 

that  it  was  impossible.  "  Circumstances,"  he 
said,  "are  more  unfavorable  just  now  than  I 
have  ever  known  them.  The  river  is  danger 
ously  high,  and  with  watching  the  levees  day 
and  night  I  would  be  absent  from  you  almost 
as  much  as  if  you  remained  here  in  your  com 
fortable  home." 

Bamma  shuddered  as  she  thought  of  the 
dreary  plantation  house,  with  only  Aunt  Pris- 
cilla  for  company,  and  recognizing  the  neces 
sity  of  the  situation,  agreed  to  remain  con 
tented  if  only  he  would  promise  to  return 
soon.  When  he  was  at  last  ready  to  go,  and 
she  came  to  give  him  a  last  kiss,  John  felt  her 
arm  tighten  around  his  neck  as  if  it  could 
never  willingly  loosen  itself,  and  again  she  de 
manded  his  promise  to  make  no  protracted 
stay.  He  promised,  and  gently  releasing  him 
self,  waved  her  a  final  good-by. 

If  he  only  could  have  known  how  much  it 
meant  for  him ! 

As  already  stated,  it  was  something  more 
than  his  plantation  interests  which  had  drawn 
John  Morant  away  from  the  city  at  this  junct 
ure.  The  danger  of  overflow,  the  loss  of  his 
crop,  the  shock  to  his  fortune,  were  all  serious 


236  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

things,  no  doubt,  but  there  was  something 
still  more  important,  more  imperative,  and,  as 
he  bore  the  burden  alone,  still  harder  to  bear. 
What  was  he  to  do  with  his  dreadful  secret  ? 
He  sought  the  solitude  of  the  country — the 
soft  and  equable  repose  of  Nature — to  cool 
the  fever  of  his  brain,  to  quiet  the  painful 
throbbings  of  his  heart,  to  reconcile  himself 
to  its  burden,  and  to  gain  time  for  reflection  as 
to  the  best  course  he  ought  to  pursue. 

When  conversing  so  freely  with  Mr.  Shriver 
and  Dr.  Dickson  about  the  races  and  the  race 
problem,  he  had  often  longed  to  confide  to 
them  the  secret  of  his  own  position,  and  to  ob 
tain  their  advice  as  to  his  duties  under  the 
peculiar  circumstances  to  Bamma,  to  his  own 
family,  and  to  the  public.  But  as  soon  as  the 
question  of  amalgamation  was  approached,  he 
shrank  back  instinctively  from  its  considera 
tion.  He  dared  not  tell  them  what  weighed 
so  heavily  upon  his  soul,  and  instead  of  being 
communicative  he  would  sink  into  a  melan 
choly  silence,  which  became  so  frequent  that 
it  began  to  excite  their  curiosity  and  commis 
eration. 

And  how  was  he  to  broach  such  a  delicate 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  237 

and  painful  subject  to  Bamma  ?  How  could 
he  afflict  her  gentle  and  innocent  being  with 
a  discovery  which  would  overwhelm  her  with 
sorrow  and  dismay?  He  already  perceived 
by  her  slightly  saddened  and  questioning  face 
that  she  was  vaguely  overshadowed  by  some 
apprehension  of  impending  evil.  Dearly  as 
he  loved  her,  he  wished  to  get  away  from  her 
pensive  atmosphere  for  a  little  while,  and  pon 
der  alone  upon  the  strange  and  cruel  outwork- 
ings  of  their  destiny. 

Burdened  with  such  a  painful  secret,  he  be 
gan  to  suspect  thafother  people  knew  it.  He 
could  rely  generally  on  Celine's  natural  reti 
cence  and  her  tender  regard  for  his  family, 
but  he  feared  that  the  garrulousness  or  for 
ge  tfulness  of  old  age  might  reveal  the  facts 
to  some  fatal  gossiper.  From  certain  hints 
which  the  little  taxidermist  let  fall,  he  inferred 
with  a  shuddering  dread  that  the  dwarfish 
curiosity-hunter  had  penetrated  other  mys 
teries  than  those  belonging  to  the  animal  or 
vegetable  kingdom.  He  also  remembered  that 
he  himself,  in  his  own  intense  anxiety,  had 
made  inquiries  and  put  leading  questions  to 
various  people,  which  might  have  already 


238  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

planted  the  germs  of  suspicion  in  the  public 
mind  for  a  future  terrible  harvesting.  From 
all  these  things  and  the  memory  of  them  he 
wished  to  escape  and  hide  in  the  country  un 
til  he  could  devise  some  sure  plan  to  meet 
emergencies,  or  nerve  himself  up  to  embrace 
the  inevitable. 

On  reaching  the  plantation  he  found  the 
condition  of  affairs  more  serious  even  than  he 
had  pictured  it,  and  there  followed  days  and 
nights  of  activity  and  intense  excitement. 

Situated  unfortunately  with  regard  to  two 
or  three  weak  points  in  the  levee  on  the  river 
front,  the  place  was  continually  in  peril  from 
threatened  crevasses.  Danger  was  apprehend 
ed  throughout  the  entire  parish.  Men  rode 
from  place  to  place,  agitated  and  anxious,  gath 
ering  help  from  every  quarter  to  repair  and 
strengthen  insecure  points.  In  the  middle  of 
the  night  one  might  expect  to  be  wakened  by 
a  stentorian  "  Holloa !"  and  urged  to  speed  to 
Lookout,  or  Terrapin  Neck,  or  Diamond  Isl 
and  to  save  the  levee.  There  would  be  found 
active  gangs  of  laborers,  straining  every  nerve 
and  muscle  in  the  supreme  effort  to  preserve 
from  overwhelming  destruction  the  fruit  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  239 

months  of  toil,  spading  and  digging,  building 
and  strengthening  and  resting,  only  to  begin 
anew  the  work  which  melted  away  even  as 
they  completed  it. 

With  all  his  energies  quickened  by  the 
struggle  against  the  tremendous  forces  of  Nat 
ure,  John,  day  after  day,  and  night  after  night, 
joined  those  who  exerted  themselves  to  keep 
the  great  swollen  river  in  bounds.  It  rushed 
and  beat  against  its  embankments  like  a 
mighty  giant.  Here  it  dashed  a  furious  wave 
over  a  low  spot,  there  it  crept  like  a  thief 
through  a  crevice  made  by  some  crustacean 
ally,  and  bubbled  up  at  the  very  feet  of  those 
contending  against  it.  Checked  in  its  insidi 
ous  entry  by  new  embankments  thrown  like 
elbows  from  the  main  levee  around  the  treach 
erous  opening,  it  swelled  and  pressed  against 
the  strong  barriers  until  it  seemed  that  only 
superhuman  power  could  curb  it. 

On  the  summit  of  the  levee,  fifteen  or  twen 
ty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  county,  one  might 
stand  even  with  the  surface  of  the  stream,  and 
feel  the  throb  of  the  great  artery  in  its  con 
straint.  Far  away  stretched  the  low,  flat,  fer 
tile  lands,  rich  in  every  element  of  productive- 


240  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

ness.  Beyond  the  woodland,  which  shut  it 
out  from  the  river  view,  the  old  Morant  place 
extended  like  a  great  open  prairie,  its  broad 
acres  now  crossed  by  innumerable  parallel 
green  lines,  tracing  the  vigorous  growth  of  tho 
great  staple  just  coming  again  into  its  king 
dom.  Wherever  the  eye  rested  the  earth  was 
full  of  promise,  putting  forth  its  abundance  in 
very  mockery  of  destruction.  Each  green 
branch  grew  greener,  and  the  luxuriant  foliage 
quivered  defiantly  at  danger.  Man  might 
shudder  at  the  imminent  cataclysm,  but  inan 
imate  Nature,  true  to  established  ways,  decked 
herself  in  gayest  vesture  on  the  brink  of  ruin. 

The  issue  was  still  a  doubtful  one,  when, 
broken  down  by  the  strain  upon  mind  and 
body,  John  Morant  was  forced  to  rest,  and  re 
tired  to  the  plantation  to  await  the  end. 

Twenty-four  hours  later,  in  the  early  morn 
ing  hours,  a  long  line  of  silvery  light  touched 
the  outer  edge  of  the  green  fields,  and  behind 
it  could  be  seen  a  dark,  dun-colored  surface 
void  of  shadow — water!  water! 

Miles  distant  the  mighty  Mississippi  rushed 
with  a  roar  through  a  great  crevasse.  Here 
its  voice  was  silent,  but  slowly  and  surely  it 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  241 

swallowed  up  the  land,  spreading  itself  into  a 
vast  ocean,  with  only  a  tree  here  and  there  to 
mark  the  face  of  the  earth.  Inch  by  inch, 
foot  by  foot,  it  covered  the  old  Morant  place, 
until  the  waving  cotton-fields  disappeared  and 
the  work  of  destruction  was  complete. 

When  the  worst  was  done,  John  looked  with 
hea%y  heart  upon  the  vast  expanse  of  water, 
under  which  was  buried  all  hope  of  reward  for 
the  valuable  labor  of  months.  Nothing  rose 
above  the  surface  of  the  liquid  waste  but  the 
trees,  the  plantation  houses,  and  in  the  dis 
tance,  just  visible  to  straining  eyes,  the  dim 
outlines  of  the  mounds. 

"  You  orter  go  over  dar,"  said  Uncle  Dan'l, 
as  he  noted  John's  attention  fixed  upon  them. 
"You'd  see  a  quar  sight,  Mars'  John.  Ef  it 
warn't  fo'  dem  mounds  dar  wouldn't  be  a  crit 
ter  or  a  varmint  lef  in  de  country." 

"  How  can  we  get  there  ?"  inquired  John, 
upon  whom  the  possibility  of  traversing  the 
broad  waste  had  not  yet  dawned. 

Uncle  Dan'l  looked  at  him  in  sincere  as- 
tonishment.    "  Why,  dar's  plenty  er  dugouts 
around,  Mars'  John !    I  kin  take  yo'  dar  in  no 
time." 
16 


242  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

The  old  negro  hastily  pushed  out  from  the 
edge  of  the  gallery  on  a  small  raft  with  which 
he  had  been  navigating  what  had  been  so  short 
a  while  since  the  green  lawn.  He  returned 
in  a  long,  slender  boat  which  rolled  from  side 
to  side  in  a  perilous  way  as  he  paddled  it 
along.  Hewn  and  literally  dug  out  of  a  solid 
log,  it  was  scarcely  more  manageable  than  one. 
John  took  his  seat  in  it,  and  allowed  Uncle 
Dan'l  to  steer  his  way  as  he  pleased  over  the 
overflowed  fields.  Water,  water  everywhere. 
One  moment  the  paddle  in  the  old  negro's 
hands  cut  down  deep  into  the  turbid  element, 
and  they  floated  smoothly  and  swiftly  through 
it,  the  next  instant  it  stirred  the  black  mud, 
bringing  up  from  the  furrows  below  the  cling 
ing  roots  and  branches  of  the  still  living  plants 
over  which  Uncle  Dan'l  had  to  push  his  way. 
As  the  boat  neared  the  one  bit  of  land  visible 
for  miles  around,  John  began  to  understand 
the  negro's  reference  to  it  as  the  place  of  safe 
ty  for  "critters"  and  "varmints."  Huddled 
together  on  the  summit  of  the  nearest  mound, 
the  length  and  breadth  of  which  scarcely  ex 
ceeded  a  quarter  of  an  acre,  was  a  motley  col 
lection  of  animals — horses,  cows,  mules,  wild 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  243 

hogs,  and  one  big  antlered  buck  with  a  doe 
and  fawn  whose  large,  dark,  pathetic  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  a  wild-cat  which  crouched  wet  and 
panting  upon  the  ground,  lost  to  every  instinct 
but  that  of  fear.  Strange  companions  in  mis 
fortune,  the  fiercest  and  the  most  timid  equal 
ly  overawed  by  the  unfamiliar  conjuncture. 
Not  a  movement  disturbed  the  outline  of  the 
group  as  the  little  boat  approached,  but  each 
creature  watched  it  glide  across  the  water 
with  almost  human  interest.  In  the  silent, 
hopeless  concentration  of  the  brute  appeal 
there  was  something  of  human  intelligence. 
It  awoke  John's  keenest  compassion,  but  de 
liverance  could  not  come  through  him,  and  he 
bade  Uncle  Dan'l  turn  his  boat  homeward. 

"  It  do  look  like  de  lion  and  de  lamb,"  said 
the  old  negro,  impressively.  "  It's  mighty 
strange,  but  dem  varmints  ain't  gwine  to  do 
one  anuder  no  harm.  Mebbe  a  bar  or  two'll 
be  up  dar  'fore  night,  an'  when  dey  gits  rested 
dey'll  jess  drap  in  de  water  and  go  off  some- 
whar'  else.  De  oder  mounds  is  all  jess  like 
dat." 

John  scanned  the  country  far  and  wide. 
Uncle  Dan'l  was  right.  Save  the  refugees  upon 


244  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

the  mounds,  not  a  living  thing  was  visible. 
There,  patiently  waiting  the  caprice  of  Nature, 
they  lingered,  deaf  and  blind  to  every  impulse 
but  that  towards  existence  itself.  He  won 
dered  how  long  the  sense  of  unwontedness 
might  hold  them  in  check,  how  long  the  in 
congruous  assemblage  might  remain  without 
the  awakening  of  that  repulsion  which  could 
rouse  them  to  a  struggle  that  was  now  sus 
pended. 

The  very  skies  were  unkind.  A  splash  of 
rain-drops  rippled  the  smooth  surface  of  the 
water,  and  then  a  driving  shower  shut  out  all 
distant  objects.  Gaining  the  shelter  of  the 
broad  galleries,  John  shivered  in  contemplat 
ing  Nature's  unfriendliness,  and  he  felt  the 
paralyzing  power  of  her  darker  moods. 

Never  in  the  whole  course  of  his  life  had 
the  logic  of  events  appeared  more  inscrutable. 
He  seemed  to  have  fallen  into  a  groove  of 
never-ending  calamity,  and,  silent  and  moody, 
he  saw  no  outlook  beyond  it. 

The  work  before  him  was  to  alleviate  as 
much  as  possible  the  distress  occasioned  by 
the  flood.  There  was  the  stock  to  be  rescued. 
The  poor  brute  creatures  which  had  escaped 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  245 

drowning  with  the  first  advance  of  the  waters, 
were  to  be  placed  on  rafts  or  platforms  built 
for  them.  Floors  were  to  be  laid  in  the  houses 
thought  to  be  above  overflow,  but  into  which 
the  steadily  rising  water  threatened  to  come, 
while  boats  were  to  be  overhauled  or  new  ones 
made  for  the  convenience  of  those  upon  the 
place,  or  for  the  rescue  of  others  from  whom 
might  come  at  any  moment  an  appeal  charged 
with  every  element  of  despair. 

To  the  negroes  upon  the  place  the  adverse 
crisis  brought  a  season  of  gayety  rather  than 
gloom.  Discharged  from  all  responsibilities 
and  relegated  once  more  to  a  condition  of  de 
pendence,  they  fell  very  readily  into  the  easy, 
pleasure-loving  ways  of  the  olden  times.  Loud 
laughter  issued  from  the  cabins,  and  out  upon 
the  water  one  heard  the  boat  songs  swelling 
and  dying  away  with  a  monotony  of  effect  pe 
culiar  to  the  minstrelsy  of  the  music -loving 
African,  while  the  echoes  brought  back  har 
moniously  the  single  voice  or  full  chorus.  Be 
side  each  door-step  in  the  quarters,  planted 
lightly  in  the  mud  beneath,  Xvas  a  long,  slen 
der  stick  used  to  mark  the  state  of  the  flood. 
Great  interest  was  manifested  in  the  frequent 


246  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

consultings  of  these  registers,  but  whether  the 
report  was  "  rising  "  or  "  falling  "  or  "  on  a 
stand,"  it  was  followed  by  explosions  of  merri 
ment,  greatly  increased  by  the  flutter  of  wings 
and  answering  cries  of  the  feathered  stock 
taking  refuge  upon  roof,  chimney,  and  gallery. 
Terribly  lonesome  were  the  long  evenings, 
when  John  sat  amid  the  deepening  shades  on 
the  long  gallery  of  the  old  plantation  house, 
fighting  off  the  gathering  mosquitoes,  and  list 
ening  to  the  dull  slosh  of  the  muddy  water  all 
around  against  the  houses  and  fences.  Then 
would  his  meditations  take  on  a  most  sombre 
hue.  The  questions  of  races  and  heredity 
would  come  up  in  their  most  formidable 
shapes.  His  intense  love  for  Bamma  would 
reconcile  him  to  their  individual  union ;  but 
what  of  their  progeny  ?  Would  they  not  re 
vert  to  the  darker  type  ?  Would  they  not  be 
tray  with  successive  generations  the  ignoble 
marks  of  African  descent  ?  Then,  if  such  mar 
riages  were  not  mere  liaisons, but  genuine  mar 
riages,  they  must  be  as  allowable  and  justifiable 
to  other  parties  as  to  themselves ;  and  if  mis 
cegenation  should  become  general,  would  not 
the  whole  Southern  race,  of  which  he  was  in- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  247 

stinctively  and  organically  proud,  be  precipi 
tated  headlong  into  a  gulf  of  degradation,  de 
generation,  and  despair?  Was  not  his  own 
unfortunate  mesalliance  a  proof  and  a  proph 
ecy  of  the  possibility  of  a  general  drifting  tow 
ards  that  gulf  ? 

Ceasing  to  confront  these  general  questions, 
he  would  then  turn  to  his  personal  interests. 
He  would  debate  with  himself  whether  it  were 
not  best  to  break  away  at  once  on  some  plaus 
ible  pretexts,  and  go  to  Jamaica  or  Mexico, 
where  the  race  barriers  had  been  already  bro 
ken  down  to  a  considerable  extent.  No,  he 
would  vehemently  exclaim, 

"  Better  fifty  years  of  Europe  than  a  cycle  of  Cathay." 

Every  night  he  would  fall  into  his  late  slum 
bers  resolving  to  accommodate  himself  quietly 
and  bravely  to  his  fate,  and  every  morning  he 
would  awake  with  the  old,  heavy  burden  upon 
his  heart.  After  many  days  of  anxious  thought 
and  suffering,  he  saw  that  he  had  made  no 
progress  towards  the  solution  of  what  he  con 
sidered  the  formidable  life  -  questions  that 
stared  him  in  the  face.  He  lost  all  interest 
in  the  plantation,  and  without  having  any  act- 


248  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

ual  premonition  of  impending  evil,  he  began 
to  think  more  constantly  and  tenderly  of  Bam- 
ma  than  ever  before,  pity  contending  with  love 
in  his  regard  for  that  beautiful  and  innocent 
woman,  bearing  unconsciously  in  her  delicate 
veins  the  curse  of  tainted  blood. 

For  the  present  there  was  nothing  more  to 
be  dreaded  on  the  plantation.  Measured  by 
previous  years,  the  water  had  done  as  much 
damage  as — unless  it  rose  beyond  all  precedent 
— it  was  likely  to  do.  Until  it  began  to  recede 
the  master's  presence  would  not  be  required, 
and  John  made  preparations  to  leave. 

Even  before  he  left,  there  came  a  summons 
for  him  to  return  home.  Care  had  been  taken- 
to  avoid  alarming  him,  but  the  tidings  con 
veyed  were  of  the  serious  illness  of  his  wife. 

All  other  troubles  were  dwarfed  in  the  anx 
iety  which  took  possession  of  him,  and  in  a 
state  alternating  between  hope  and  despair  he 
began  what  seemed  the  interminable  journey 
which  separated  them. 

As  he  passed  through  the  swampy  wood 
land  near  the  river,  it  was  denser  and  darker 
than  ever.  Among  the  floating  logs  and  oth 
er  drift  which  gathered  to  obstruct  his  way, 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  249 

the  little  boat  which  he  cautiously  steered  was 
frequently  in  danger,  and  from  the  overhang 
ing  branches  the  gray  moss  occasionally  swept 
over  him,  damp  and  chilly  as  the  touch  of 
Death.  Often  as  he  forced  his  way  along  he 
recalled  that  other  journey,  when  Bamma  had 
been  beside  him,  fascinating  and  pleasing  to 
every  sense,  pliant  and  loving,  the  very  incar 
nation  of  full,  rich  life.  Shrinking  from  a 
thought  which  smote  his  heart  with  cruel  force, 
he  tortured  himself  with  a  vision  of  life  with 
out  her  presence ;  and  again  admitting  some 
light  in  all  his  dark  forebodings,  he  experi 
enced  the  reaction  of  full  hope. 

As  he  took  his  seat  upon  the  deck  of  the 
steamer  at  the  river  landing,  and  watched  the 
swift  current  sweep  by  him  towards  her  he 
loved,  he  could  not  believe  that  it  would  bear 
him  to  anything  but  her  bright  and  loving 
smiles. 

The  sound  of  a  great  bell  startled  him.  The 
boat  was  pushing  out  from  shore.  He  looked 
up  and  caught  the  eye  of  the  captain  as  he 
gave  the  last  vigorous  tap. 

"  Dreadful  hard  luck  for  these  people,  ain't 
it?"  said  that  officer,  reflectively  turning  his 


250  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

good-natured  face  towards  a  point  of  land  for 
which  he  headed.  "  But  then  luck  is  always 
down  on  'em,  there's  no  denying  that  It  might 
have  been  the  drought,  or  it  might  have  been 
too  much  rain,  or  it  might  have  been  the  army- 
worm.  They  all  come  in  their  turn." 

John  nodded  assent 

"  But  I  have  been  going  up  and  down  this 
river  nigh  thirty  years,  and  I  declare  I  never 
saw  anything  worse.  There's  a  fine  place  now 
just  back  of  the  landing.  You  can  see  the 
house  in  a  clump  of  trees  behind  the  levee.  I 
tell  you  I  hated  to  see  that  place  go  under. 
It  belongs  to  a  nice  woman,"  and  the  captain 
ran  a  gamut  upon  the  word  "  nice "  which 
made  it  comprehensive. 

John  responded  with  a  monosyllable  which 
might  mean  anything,  a  simple  assent  or  the 
intimation  of  a  desire  to  hear  more. 

"  Yes,  she's  a  nice  woman,"  continued  the 
captain.  "  I  know  her ;  I  know  everybody 
along  this  river-bank.  She's  a  widow." 

A  contemplative  smile  spread  over  his  broad 
face,  as  if  he  were  not  averse  to.  dwelling  on 
that  fact. 

"  I  don't  recognize  the  place,"  said  John, 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  2$  I 

trying  to  identify  the  desolate  picture;  but 
there  was  nothing  in  the  place  before  him  to 
recall  any  former  memory  of  it.  "  The  river 
seems  to  have  changed  its  course  here." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  captain,  "  the  house  used  to 
be  a  mile  or  two  back  from  the  levee ;  but  the 
river  has  washed  in  here  and  taken  a  slice  out 
there,  and  forced  them  to  move  the  levee  so 
often  that  they  are  now  afraid  the  next  move 
will  carry  it  behind  the  buildings.  If  the  big 
river  don't  begin  to  make  a  sand-bank  in  front, 
as  it  did  at  Berry's,  we'll  have  to  say  good-by 
to  the  old  Marston  place." 

"  Marston  ?"  said  John.  "  There  was  a  large 
family  of  that  name.  I  remember  them  very 
well." 

"  Mighty  good  stock  they  were,  too,"  said 
the  captain,  impressively. 

John  answered  heartily  that  he  believed  they 
were,  and  asked  what  had  become  of  them  all? 

"  Dead,  all  dead,  but  the  widow.  She's  had 
a  hard  time  of  it  lately ;  but  I  remember  the 
time,"  said  the  captain,  "  when  nothing  in  this 
wide  universe  was  too  fine  for  her.  I  wonder 
what  her  old  grandfather  would  say  if  he  could 
see  her  now.  You  never  knew  old  man  Tur- 


2$2  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

ner,  did  you  ?  No,  that  was  before  your  day. 
Well,  that  man's  pride  was  about  the  biggest 
thing  I  ever  knew.  Why,  one  day  when  we 
were  all  hurrahing  over  the  last  election,  he 
swore — I  can  just  sec  him  now  as  he  stood  in 
the  cabin  of  the  old  Southern  Belle,  with  a 
sneer  on  his  face,  and  swore  that  his  hat  had 
never  gone  up,  and  never  would  go  up  in  the 
air  for  any  man.  He  hated  democracy,  and 
declared  it  would  yet  ruin  the  country ;  that 
no  one  could  tell  what  his  children  might  come 
to,  and,  for  his  own,  he  hoped  that  fifty  years 
after  his  death  his  blood  would  run  in  no  man's 
veins.  It  does  look  as  if  his  desire  is  going  to 
come  to  pass." 

Brutal  as  the  patrician's  wish  had  sounded, 
John  felt  a  responsive  thrill.  Extinction  might 
be,  after  all,  the  kindest  destiny. 

"  Are  there  many  of  the  old  families  left  in 
the  parish  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Very  few,"  said  the  captain,  "  and  they  are 
mostly  represented  by  widows.  The  fact  is," 
continued  he,  emphatically,  "that  country  is 
chock  full  of  widows." 

"  Naturally  enough,"  suggested  John,  "  when 
so  many  lives  were  given  to  their  country." 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  253 

The  captain's  explanation  was  significant. 
"  No,  the  war  was  not  responsible  for  it  all. 
There  had  been  another  mighty  agent  at  work." 
His  voice  fell  to  a  whisper  as  he  enunciated 
it :  "  Whiskey !"  There  hadn't  been  a  man  in 
that  country  for  two  generations  who  didn't 
drink  like  a  fish.  They  had  a  notion  that 
it  kept  off  the  chills ;  but  his  private  opinion 
publicly  expressed  was  that  the  fashion  was 
set  years  ago  by  Billy  Bush,  and  nobody  had 
ever  had  the  courage  to  change  it. 

"  You've  heard  of  Billy  Bush,  haven't  you  ?" 
he  asked ;  "  splendid  old  fellow  he  was  too." 

John  nodded  his  head  only,  and  moved 
away.  The  old  captain,  somewhat  disconcert 
ed,  looked  after  him  with  a  significant  grunt, 
and  then  he  too  moved  off  to  console  him 
self,  probably  with  one  of  Billy  Bush's  favorite 
mixtures. 

John  lighted  his  cigar  and  paced  the  deck 
restlessly.  Billy  Bush  again  !  Was  that  name 
always  to  pursue  him  ?  Had  the  man  so  im 
pressed  himself  upon  the  world  that  he  could 
never  lie  forgotten  ?  What  other  sins  might 
not  yet  be  laid  to  his  charge  ?  Was  there  no 


254  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

way  to  escape  the  wickedness  of  this  trans 
gressor  of  every  law,  social  and  divine  ? 

The  night  wind  blew  softly,  and  weird  shad 
ows  danced  upon  the  water,  and  he  felt  as  im 
potent  against  the  influences  which  he  fancied 
had  entered  into  his  life  through  the  far  off 
dead  as  he  was  powerless  to  stay  the  wind  or 
grasp  the  shadows. 

"  Concealment,"  he  muttered,  "  concealment 
is  now  the  only  hope;  concealment  from  Bam- 
ma,  from  my  family,  and  from  the  world."  For 
he  foresaw  in  the  promulgation  of  his  dread 
ful  secret  the  agony  of  his  wife,  the  misery  of 
his  proud  relatives,  and  the  social  ostracism 
which  would  inevitably  follow. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  255 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

BAMMA  declined  visibly  after  her  husband's 
departure.  She  became  subject  to  spells  of 
abstraction  and  despondency  which  quite 
alarmed  her  friends.  A  sudden  illness  im 
pelled  them  to  inform  her  husband  of  her 
condition,  and  to  solicit  his  return.  She  re 
covered,  however,  more  readily  than  was  ex 
pected,  and  was  able  to  resume  a  daily  ride 
in  her  carriage. 

It  was  towards  the  afternoon  of  one  day  that 
she  prepared  to  make  a  visit  which  had  become 
one  of  pleasant  duty  since  her  marriage. 

Down  in  the  old  French  district  she  was 
always  received  with  a  warmth  of  welcome 
very  grateful  to  her  childlike  nature,  and  the 
pleasant  greetings  of  the  devoted  sister,  and 
kindly  smiles  of  the  gray- haired  old  gentle 
man,  whom  she  now  called  father,  were  potent 
to  dispel  any  prejudices  which  the  strange  il 
lusions  of  her  first  visit  there  might  have  en 
gendered. 


256  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

How  well  she  remembered  that  first  visit ! 
To-day  its  details  were  more  vivid  than  ever — 
the  very  clearness  of  the  sky,  not"  dimmed  as 
now  by  the  white  cumulus  passing  over  its 
deep  blue,  the  fresher  breeze,  the  enchantment 
of  her  new  position,  and  John's  eyes  so  eager 
and  tender.  Surely  she  who  then  turned  her 
head  with  fine  coquetry  from  that  ardent  gaze, 
and  lifted  it  with  outbursts  of  lively  curiosity 
and  whimsical  assertion,  was  other  than  the 
young  matron  now  leaning  against  the  soft 
cushions  of  the  luxurious  carriage,  very  pale, 
and  languid  with  the  unusual  warmth  of  the 
initial  summer  days,  but  smiling  with  the  su 
perior  little  smile  which  comes  upon  the  face 
of  a  woman  quite  satisfied  with  her  new  king 
dom.  And  yet  she  was  vaguely  conscious  of 
the  cloud  somewhere  over  her  head. 

Every  turn  of  the  way  brought  fresh  recol 
lections.  As  she  passed  the  taxidermist's  shop 
she  stopped,  for  she  fancied  she  saw  in  the 
window,  in  the  place  of  honor  once  occupied 
by  the  great  alligator,  a  new  specimen,  an 
unique  sample  of  the  taxidermist's  art,  a  white 
bird  with  out -stretched  wings,  just  ready  to 
take  flight  from  a  moss-covered  globe.  There 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  257 

was  no  doubt  of  it.  It  was  the  little  man's 
treasure.  What  an  air  of  grace  was  there  in 
the  light  poise  of  the  delicate  frame,  the  in 
stant  of  gathering  force  for  a  strange  venture  ! 
it  might  be  in  search  of  better  "  compagnie  " 
than  any  he  had  ever  found  upon  the  globe  he 
was  leaving. 

It  was  all  Marie's  fault,  the  little  man  ex 
plained.  She  had  been  too  kind.  There  had 
to  be  a  limit  to  kindness.  One  must  know 
how  much,  and  what  to  give,  when  they  have 
the  opportunity  of  giving,  and  Marie  had  not 
been  wise. 

"  An'  so  yo'  see  fo'  yo'se'f,"  he  said,  discon 
solately.  "  But  I  keep  my  word,  madame.  I 
haf  yo'  name,  an'  I  sen'  heem  to  yo'  soon." 

"  You  have  my  name?"  said  Bamma,  in  some 
surprise.  "  Then  you  know  that  I  am  Madam 
Morant  ?" 

"  Ah,  oui,  madame,"  returned  he,  "  I  see  yo' 
'usban'  sev'al  time." 

So  John  had  not  lost  his  interest  in  the  lit 
tle  shop,  thought  Bamma,  as  she  left  it.  What 
was  there  in  it  that  attracted  him  ?  And  the 
curious  bird  which  pleased  him,  or  did  it  please 
him  ?  Any  way  it  was  at  last  to  be  theirs. 
17 


258  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

She  smiled  as  her  tasteful  instincts  failed  to 
imagine  a  decorative  position  for  it.  If  it  had 
been  of  its  own  proper  color,  there  was  the  li 
brary.  Yes,  she  and  John  had  discussed  the 
raven  that  was  to  be  placed  just  above  that 
door. 

That  thought  of  the  library  was  oppressive. 
With  it  something  of  the  brightness  of  the 
day  past  and  the  day  present  was  blotted  out 
Most  distinctly  was  revived  the  impression  of 
that  evening  before  her  husband  had  gone 
away,  when  she  had  desired  his  confidence 
and  gained  only  a  strange  conviction.  Why 
had  it  never  occurred  to  her  before  to  act 
upon  it?  His  trouble  might  be,  after  all,  a 
family  affair,  with  which  he  did  not  care  to 
burden  her,  and  which  she  thought  she  ought 
to  know.  At  any  rate  there  could  be  no  harm 
in  simple  inquiry  of  the  father  and  sister;  and 
even  if  she  consulted  old  Celine,  what  impro 
priety  could  there  be  in  that  ?  Was  she  not 
a  faithful  old  nurse,  discreet  and  deserving  of 
confidence  ?  And  if  once  she  had  a  clew  to 
that  inexplicable  sadness,  might  she  not  be 
able  to  soften  it  ?  The  image  of  herself  as  his 
comforter  caused  her  heart  to  swell  with  joy, 


.TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  259 

and  thrill  with  delicious  emotion.  "  The  first 
opportunity,  yes,"  she  whispered  to  herself — 
"  the  first  opportunity  that  comes  to  me,  I  will 
know." 

She  was  somewhat  startled  when  she  ar 
rived  at  the  house  to  hear  Celine  assert  that 
her  master  and  mistress  were  absent.  Had 
such  an  extraordinary  thing  ever  happened 
before,  and  when  ?  Even  old  Celine's  face 
showed  traces  of  astonishment  and  perplexity. 

"  I  do  not  understand  it,"  said  Bamma. 
"  Are  they  visiting  some  one  ?" 

"  No,  madam,"  was  Celine's  brief  response. 

"  Then  where  can  they  have  gone  ?" 

"  To  the  lake,  madam." 

What  other  assertion  could  have  been  more 
preposterous  ?  None  but  the  answer  which 
Celine  gave  to  the  next  question. 

"  With  whom  have  they  gone  ?" 

"  Mr.  Byrne." 

Bamma  could  not  restrain  a  merry  laugh, 
which  woke  the  echoes  of  the  old  hall,  though 
it  did  not  bring  a  change  of  muscle  in  old  Ce 
line's  face.  Certainly  affairs  were  becoming 
significant.  The  dawning  sentiments  of  Mr. 
Byrne  had  not  been  unobserved,  but  this  re- 


260  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

markable  evidence  of  progress  was  an  amus 
ing  surprise. 

If  she  could  only  have  seen  the  strangely 
associated  party  on  its  way  to  the  old-time 
pleasure  resort,  the  unaffected  good-humor  of 
the  major,  whose  eyes  were  still  closed  to  any 
motives  upon  the  part  of  his  old  friend  but 
those  of  pure  benevolence,  the  prim  demure- 
ness  of  Miss  Isabel  and  the  half  concealed 
agitation  of  Mr.  Byrne !  Would  Miss  Isabel 
ever  tell  of  that  dashing  drive  down  to  the 
Lake  Pontchartrain,  over  the  broad,  level, 
white  shell  road,  incomparable  but  for  the  un- 
picturesque  and  odorate  dairy  farms  upon  the 
one  hand,  and  the  sluggish  canal  on  the  other 
— a  drive  which  brought  new  life  to  the  old 
major,  and  a  wealth  of  ancient  memories,  of 
which  for  once  Mr.  Byrne  was  intolerant. 
Then  the  dinner.  The  open  dining-room 
fronting  the  water,  over  which  came  the  fresh 
est,  balmiest  breath  of  air  that  ever  comforted 
tired  lungs,  the  neat  little  table  for  three,  the 
menu,  which  Mr.  Byrne's  long  bachelorhood 
and  experience  had  insured  should  be  perfect 
— all  were  luxuries  too  infrequent  for  Miss  Isa 
bel  to  fail  to  appreciate  them,  and  regard  with 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  261 

increasing  favor  the  dispenser  of  them.  And 
was  it  very  wonderful,  after  all,  that  in  her  poor, 
half-starved  life,  with  its  hereditary  fitness  for 
the  enjoyment  of  all  the  good  things  of  the 
world,  she  should  long  for  a  continuance  of 
them  and  see  the  possibility  of  it  in  the  posi 
tion  she  was  sure  was  about  to  be  offered 
her? 

It  is  impossible  to  say  how  much  Bamma 
enjoyed  the  mental  picture  she  made  of  the 
aged  wooer  and  the  probable  result  of  his 
wooing,  and  how  light-hearted  she  suddenly 
became.  Could  it  be  possible  that  this  im 
pending  change  in  family  relations  was  a  mat 
ter  of  grief  to  her  husband?  Was  this  the 
trouble  which  had  clouded  his  brow  ?  Did  he 
feel  so  seriously  the  slight  ridicule  which 
might  be  attached  to  the  step  which  his  sister 
would  probably  take  ?  For  a  moment  the  sug 
gestion  seemed  conclusive,  but  then  —  it  did 
seem  insufficient — it  did  not  satisfy  her. 

Perhaps  it  was  because  the  opportunity  of 
talking  with  old  Celine  might  never  again  so 
favorably  present  itself  that  the  desire  to  do 
so  grew  and  grew  until  she  felt  that  it  had 
become  the  one  thing  which  could  rid  her  of 


262  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

that  haunting  conviction  which  had  seized 
upon  her  so  suddenly,  which  had  surely  been 
based  upon  nothing,  and  might  as  quickly  be 
driven  from  her  mind. 

She  would  not  speak  hastily.  Her  words 
must  be  chosen  fitly,  not  to  compromise  her 
dignity.  Celine  had  remained  standing  beside 
her,  silently  and  respectfully  awaiting  any  com 
mands  or  instructions  to  be  left  for  the  absent 
ones.  Bamma  now  dismissed  her  for  a  while. 

"  I  am  going  in  for  a  few  moments  to  rest," 
she  said,  entering  the  parlors.  "  You  may 
come  again  when  I  am  ready  to  leave." 

She  could  not  understand,  when  she  had 
chosen  to  seat  herself  in  the  old  major's  chair, 
why  she  suddenly  began  to  tremble  so  violent 
ly.  Was  it  wrong,  after  all,  to  seek  to  know 
what  her  husband  had  desired  to  conceal?  and 
was  she  taking  an  unfair  advantage  in  her 
method  of  discovering  it?  The  doubt  held 
her  long  in  suspense ;  but  argument  and  re 
flection  were  powerless  against  the  combina 
tion  of  circumstances  so  inviting  to  her  first 
impulse  as  this  now  presenting  itself. 

She  could  hear  Celine  moving  to  and  fro  at 
her  work  in  the  adjoining  room.  She  had  but 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  263 

to  call  softly  and  the  old  negress  would  be  be* 
side  her. 

"  Celine !" 

"  Madam  ?" 

Could  it  be  true  that  she  had  not  called  at 
all,  nor  had  Celine  responded  ?  Her  courage 
rose  as  she  laughed  at  the  trick  her  imagina 
tion  had  played  her;  such  things  were  frequent 
with  her,  and  she  was  becoming  used  to  them. 
The  situation  now  seemed  less  difficult.  An 
advance  had  been  made  in  framing  that  men 
tal  summons,  and  the  wheels  of  action  slightly 
started  gained  momentum  until  the  impulse 
was  so  far  strengthened  that  she  really  uttered 
the  call. 

"  Celine  !" 

"  Madam  ?"  answered  the  negress,  softly  en 
tering  the  room. 

"  Did  your  mistress  tell  you  at  what  time 
she  would  return  ?" 

"  No,  madam." 

"  It  has  been  many  years  since  she  has  gone 
out  much." 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"And  you  have  been  with  the  family  all 
your  life,  have  you  not  ?" 


264  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  You  were  my  husband's  nurse,  I  believe  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam." 

How  respectfully  laconic  the  old  creature 
was !  How  different  from  garrulous  Aunt 
Priscilla,  with  whom  one  suggestion  would 
have  opened  a  store  of  family  knowledge! 
Starting  so  far  away  from  the  point  she  de 
sired  to  reach,  Bamma  felt  the  difficulty  of 
dealing  with  so  unpromising  a  subject.  But 
even  Celine  grew  more  communicative  under 
well-directed  questions  of  the  childhood  and 
youth  of  him  whom  the  old  negro  "  mammy  " 
had  never  ceased  to  think  of  as  "  my  baby," 
and  she  related  at  last,  more  effectively  than 
her  rigid,  unsmiling  face  would  have  promised, 
a  laughable  but  innocent  escapade  in  which 
he  had  been  engaged. 

"  He  was  always  very  gay,  was  he  not  ?"  said 
Bamma. 

"  Yes,  madam,  but—" 

A  strange  expression  came  upon  the  wom 
an's  face. 

"  But  what  ?"  inquired  Bamma,  feeling  that 
her  look  meant  a  great  deal. 

"  Mars'  John  is  change'." 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  265 

Then  she,  too,  recognized  the  fact ;  but  did 
she  know  why  ?  Something  in  the  black  eyes 
warned  Bamma  of  a  knowledge  of  evil  which 
might  touch  her  sorely.  But  what  prevision 
of  fate  ever  checked  the  advance  of  it  ? 

"  Yes,  I  know  it,"  she  answered,  growing  a 
little  pale,  and  shrinking  slightly  from  the  ac 
knowledgment.  The  black  eyes  were  still 
fixedly  regarding  her,  and  Bamma  fancied  she 
detected  an  expression  of  dislike  towards  her 
self  in  their  glassy  stare. 

"  And  because  you  have  nursed  him  and 
known  him  all  his  life,  I  would  like  to  ask  you 
something.  Do  you  know  of  anything  that 
could  make  him  unhappy  ?" 

"  Yes,  madam." 

Bamma  was  sure  now  that  it  was  hatred 
that  gleamed  in  Celine's  eyes,  and  she  com 
prehended  that  something  sinister  menaced 
her  peace ;  but  it  only  increased  her  desire  to 
know. 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  it  is?"  she  asked, 
very  gently. 

What  could  have  possessed  Celine  that  she 
lost  all  fear  of  John  Morant's  anger,  and  was 
ready  to  betray  the  trust  which  he  had  thought 


266  TOWARDS   THE  GULF. 

safe  with  her  ?  Could  it  be  true  that  among 
the  finer  classes  of  her  race  might  be  found 
a  prejudice  as  deep  and  strong  and  intolerant 
of  any  commingling  of  blood  as  ever  existed 
in  the  heart  of  Celt  or  Saxon  ?  Did  it  tempt 
her  to  strike  down  and  pursue  the  innocent 
victim  of  it,  gloating  upon  the  anguish  of  the 
sore  oppressed.  Nothing  less  than  this  could 
account  for  the  disclosures  she  made. 

She  did  not  tell  it  all  at  once.  Little  by 
little,  pressed  by  questions  upon  points  very 
obscure  to  the  foreign  education  of  her  listen 
er,  upon  whom  the  whole  horror  of  the  wretch 
ed  story  dawned  slowly,  monotonously  and 
briefly  she  responded  with  words  which  stim 
ulated  inquiry.  And  this  was  the  substance 
of  it  all. 

There  was  a  likeness  which  she  had  recog 
nized  that  first  day  when  Mars'  John  had 
brought  the  madam  there  —  a  likeness  to  a 
family  —  she  would  not  say  what  they  were, 
but  they  had  lived  many  years  ago  in  that  lit 
tle  house  —  she  could  show  it  to  her.  No? 
well,  the  madam  could  see  it  as  she  went 
out.  There  was  no  mistaking  the  likeness- 
there  was  just  the  same  face,  the  same  eyes, 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  267 

and  even  the  three  little  black  moles  under 
the  lashes.  The  madam  must  know  for  her 
self  they  were  very  curious,  and  they  were 
just  like  those  of  the  young  girl  who  had  been 
sold  to  the  plantations  when  she  (Celine)  was 
very  young.  And  there  were  other  things 
which  anybody  could  see.  She  had  warned 
Mars'  John.  Why  had  she  done  that?  Be 
cause  she  had  her  suspicions.  She  could  not 
let  Mars'  John  suffer  through  those  people. 
And  he  had  found  out  what  she  thought  was 
true.  How,  she  could  not  tell,  but  it  was 
very  soon  after  he  married ;  she  had  no  need 
to  ask  him,  she  could  see  it.  And  he  was  not 
satisfied,  she  was  sure.  He  had  asked  her 
many  strange  questions,  and  she  was  sure  he 
was  trying  to  find  out.  There  was  one  man 
who  knew  a  great  deal  about  everything  and 
everybody.  Mars'  John  sometimes  went  to 
see  him.  He  was  a  funny  little  man,  always 
prowling  around  old  places  and  hunting  up 
strange  things.  She  had  seen  him  a  great 
deal  in  the  neighborhood  lately,  and  he  had 
asked  many  questions.  He  could  find  out,  if 
anybody  could,  that  madam  was  in  some  way 
kin  to  those  people — and  they  were — negroes. 


268  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

There  were  no  more  questionings.  Against 
the  chair  the  little  white  face  with  its  closed 
eyes  was  very  like  death.  Celine  was  startled. 
She  advanced  a  step,  but  the  eyes  opened,  the 
small  hands  waved  her  away.  Not  near  her 
— not  a  step  must  she  approach. 

Was  this  the  result  of  her  desire  to  know  ? 
She  suddenly  felt  herself  covered  all  over  with 
infamy,  though  not  a  word  of  that  story  could 
be  true.  She  had  followed  it  wonderingly  at 
first,  for  it  seemed  very  far  away  from  her, 
very  absurd.  That  easy  solution  of  the  old 
negress's  manner,  a  doubt  of  her  sanity,  was 
instinctive  with  her ;  it  had  been  so  with  her 
husband  when  he  had  first  listened.  What 
folly,  that  she  an  English  girl  could  be  so 
strangely  like  one  dead  long  enough  ago  to 
have  faded  out  of  the  memory  of  the  aged 
creature  before  her.  And  even  so,  what  con 
nection  could  there  be  in  that  with  her  life  or 
her  husband's  happiness.  Never  had  there 
been  a  relative  of  hers  in  this  country  except 
the  mother  now  lying  in  the  quietest,  prettiest 
graveyard  in  England,  and  she  had  been  far 
removed  from  this  horrible  place.  Yes,  she 
was  beginning  to  think  it  was  a  horrible  place. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  269 

The  portraits  of  the  Morants  upon  the 
walls,  stiff  as  wooden  soldiers  and  sawdust 
dolls,  had  an  air  of  understanding  it  all,  and 
seemed  to  look  down  upon  her  oh!  so  con 
temptuously,  that  she  should  be  listening  and 
shrinking  from  the  utterances  of  their  negro 
slave.  She  would  have  hushed  her  then  with 
that  fine  air  of  authority  learned  in  her  own 
land,  where  authority  was  something  to  be  re 
spected,  but  she  had  just  reached  a  hideous 
fact,  that  John  believed  it !  This  accounted 
for  his  sadness  and  all  his  curious  studies. 
And  this  creature  knew  it!  Oh,  that  she 
could  escape  the  insult ! — could  hide  herself 
from  the  shame  of  it !  She  closed  her  eyes 
that  she  might  forever  shut  it  out.  That  icy 
feeling  so  like  death  was  at  her  heart,  and  a 
great  pulsating  wave  swept  towards  her  brain. 
One  thought  sustained  her.  It  was  that  of 
escape  from  the  place  where  she  had  been 
thus  cruelly  wounded. 

Without  a  look,  without  a  word,  she  rose 
and  passed  through  that  door  never  before 
inhospitable  to  one  who  reached  its  thresh 
old. 

"  For  the  last  time,"  she  whispered,  too  low 


2/O  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

for  anything  to  hear  but  the  light  breeze 
which  touched  her  cheek  softly  and  tenderly 
as  if  it  knew. 

And  then  Bamma  saw  the  last  vision  that 
the  old  French  district  would  ever  conjure  up 
to  distract  and  bewilder  her  senses,  a  clairvoy 
ance  never  more  to  be  granted  her.  As  she 
raised  her  eyes  full  of  the  tears  which  had 
come  to  relieve  the  great  burden  of  her  heart, 
she  saw  the  little  house,  that  one  silent  and 
deserted  of  life,  closed  to  the  world,  and  wait 
ing  the  completion  of  decay.  Beyond  the 
bolts  and  bars  and  fast  closed  shutters  she 
saw  a  spectral  home,  the  confrontation  of  that 
remote  past.  A  sudden  relaxation  of  the  body, 
a  droop  of  the  pretty  head,  and  Celine,  who 
had  silently  followed  her,  held  Bamma  in  her 
arms.  She  was  not  unconscious,  but  white 
and  still,  just  as  she  had  rested  in  the  major's 
chair,  she  leaned  against  Celine's  breast,  only 
in  the  wide  open  eyes  one  saw  no  trace  of  the 
horror,  the  indignation  which  had  then  pos 
sessed  her.  A  senseless  terror  dilated  them, 
a  terror  of  that  which  had  confronted  her,  and 
the  meaning  of  which  was  at  once  clear  to 
her  sympathetic  faculties. 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  2/1 

"  Take  me  home,"  she  said,  as  calmly  and 
authoritatively  as  her  shattered  strength  would 
permit.  "  I  must  go  quickly." 

And  without  a  protest  she  allowed  the  old 
negress  to  lift  her,  and  to  hold  her  tenderly 
while  her  instructions  were  obeyed.  When 
she  reached  home  she  had  still  to  be  lifted 
from  the  carnage,  and  she  seemed  to  cling 
closely  to  Celine,  whose  once  strong  arms 
were  yet  able  to  bear  the  light  burden. 

They  placed  her  to  rest  a  moment  on  a 
lounge  in  the  room  where  the  large,  square 
window  let  in  the  sunshine,  and  the  boughs 
of  the  live-oak  swayed  across  it.  She  smiled 
faintly  as  she  recognized  the  familiar  shadows, 
and  she  watched  with  interest  a  great  golden 
butterfly  which  had  settled  on  the  upper  win 
dow-panes  within,  and  calmly  waved  back  and 
forth  a  pair  of  showily  striped  wings,  while  a 
green  chameleon  outside  struck  at  it  with  its 
snake-like  head,  once  and  again  with  no  suc 
cess  beyond  the  dull  rap  which  told  its  discom 
fiture.  When  they  had  taken  her  to  her  own 
room  she  called  Celine  to  her  bedside  and  said, 

"  You  are  a  good  nurse ;  you  must  stay 
with  me.  I  shall  need  you." 


2/2  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

Afterwards  she  asked  to  have  brought  to 
her  a  small  box,  which  she  slowly  opened; 
then  took  from  it  the  well-remembered  and 
well-cherished  bracelet  which  she  had  shown 
to  her  husband  as  possessing  power  against 
all  evil,  and  clasping  it  around  her  small  wrist, 
seemed  more  content. 

As  if  that  mere  holding  of  the  fainting 
woman  in  her  arms  had  been  the  spark  to 
kindle  a  sentiment  akin  to  one*  which  seems 
always  to  linger  in  the  soul  of  a  negro  nurse, 
the  love  of  the  little  ones  whom  she  has  once 
held  to  her  bosom,  Celine  watched  beside 
Bamma  faithfully  through  the  agony  which 
the  night  brought.  For  the  great  pangs  of 
premature  motherhood  came  upon  her,  and 
the  doctor,  hastily  summoned,  sat  by  her  bed 
side  for  hours. 

Towards  the  morning,  when  relief  from 
pain  had  come,  the  doctor  having  retired,  the 
old  negress  believed  that  her  patient  was 
sinking  into  a  pleasant  slumber,  and  she, 
too,  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  nodded 
and  slept. 

The  morning  was  not  yet  come  when  Bam 
ma  opened  her  eyes.  Something  had  awak- 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  273 

ened  her  which  sent  a  thrill  of  pain  along  her 
sensitive  nerves.  It  was  a  mocking-bird  in 
the  live-oak,  singing  with  all  the  vigor  and 
variety  of  tone  which  makes  him  sometimes 
sweet,  sometimes  satanic. 

How  oppressive  were  all  his  notes !  The 
pathetic  warble,  and  the  rise  through  every 
gradation  of  melody  to  the  shrill  whistle  and 
derisive  call  so  startlingly  distinct  in  the  still 
night  air.  There  seemed  a  cruel  fun  in  every 
trick  of  the  voice  which  tortured  her.  Under 
it  the  despair  which  had  been  a  dull  leaden 
force  became  active.  Her  defence  was  so 
feeble. 

It  was  only  the  reiteration  of  denial.  That 
suspicion  was  not  true,  but — John  believed  it, 
and  was  wretched  on  account  of  it.  With  that 
little  taxidermist  upon  the  track,  what  might 
he  not  discover?  Was  there  to  be  no  escape 
from  it?  Could  she  not  save  them  both  from 
the  infamous  facts  which  might  be  revealed  ? 
If  only  she  were  out  of  the  way,  it  would  all 
be  well  with  John. 

And  then  from  some  secret  store  of  con 
sciousness  was  telegraphed  the  way. 
18 


274  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

Did  that  sudden  death — that  suicide — that 
eternal  sleep  entered  upon  years  ago  by  the 
old  man,  whose  deeds  still  carried  their  terri 
ble  consequences — did  that  shape  her  resolu 
tion  ? 

What  a  mixed  nature  was  hers !  Simple, 
light-hearted  as  an  innocent  child,  and  as  tim 
idly  trembling  at  the  least  sound  or  shadow 
which  her  inexperience  determined  as  inimi 
cal  to  her,  and  yet  serene  and  resolute  at  the 
thought  of  death.  It  is  easy  for  the  grand 
child  of  a  suicide  to  commit  self-murder.  In 
the  dim  light  of  the  room  she  could  see  Ce 
line's  turbaned  head  and  dark  face,  with  a 
gleam  of  the  golden  ear-rings  swinging  to  and 
fro  with  every  deep  respiration.  Yes,  she 
was  asleep ;  those  black  eyes  were  closed  and 
would  never  more  disturb  her.  It  was  not  pos 
sible  for  her  to  see  what  was  going  to  happen, 
only,  she  would  know  first  of  all,  and  would 
she  keep  the  secret  of  it  ?  What  would  they 
think  then?  That  she  had  sunk  exhausted 
under  that  agony  through  which  she  had 
passed  ?  Sudden  deaths  under  such  circum 
stances  have  often  occurred.  She  raised  her 
hand,  and  the  green  bracelet  slipped  back 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  275 

from  the  wrist  and  tightened  itself  about  the 
well-rounded  arm. 

It  had  not  been  an  amulet,  after  all.  A  con 
temptuous  anger  possessed  her  against  the 
senseless  stones.  She  would  have  thrown 
them  far  from  her,  but  a  thought  restrained 
the  impulse.  "  She  must  not  wake  Celine." 
So  with  set  face  like  a  passionate  child  she 
tore  them  apart,  bead  by  bead,  crushed  them 
in  her  restless,  weary  hands,  and  dropped  them 
one  by  one  beside  her. 

A  great  loneliness  fell  upon  her,  and  a  quick 
compassion  for  her  own  fate.  The  tears  forced 
themselves  through  the  fallen  lashes  and  rest 
ed  upon  her  cheek.  But  they  were  the  last 
which  she  was  to  shed.  That  thought  she 
received  with  a  triumphant  rush  of  blood 
through  her  veins.  She  would  escape  her  own 
social  desolation  and  restore  her  husband's 
peace  of  mind  by  the  same  stroke.  It  seemed 
to  her  that  there  was  no  alternative. 

Close  by  the  bed  was  the  table  which  held 
all  the  articles  suggestive  of  the  watch  beside 
the  sick:  the  goblet,  the  spoon,  the  little 
square  box,  half  opened,  displaying  the  neat 
white  packages  within,  the  small  bottle  of 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

ruby- colored  liquid,  and  one  other,  clear  as 
crystal,  with  a  conically  folded  napkin  be 
side  it. 

There  was  still  in  the  room  a  faint  ethereal 
odor  which  betrayed  the  contents  of  the  clear 
white  bottle,  and  that  it  had  already  been  free 
ly  used.  It  was  this  chloroform  which  fixed 
Bamma's  attention. 

"  Oh,  John  !"  she  exclaimed,  "  this  will  lift 
the  heavy  burden  from  your  life.  Take  care 
of  our  child." 

An  instant  later  the  ethereal  odor  had  grown 
heavier  in  the  room.  It  oppressed  Celine,  for 
she  stirred  with  a  slight  cough,  then  rested 
her  chin  upon  her  breast,  and  nodded  once 
more. 

#         *         #         *         #         *         # 

Hours  after,  when  John  drew  near  his  home, 
there  returned  upon  him  a  great  dread.  The 
hope  that  had  sprung  up  in  his  heart  died  out. 
So  much  of  happiness  had  escaped  him  that 
he  accepted  the  fate  before  him  in  the  full  as 
surance  that  its  darkest  shadows  were  to  close 
around  him.  As  he  approached  the  house 
the  sinister  look  of  its  surroundings  were  in 
keeping  with  his  mood.  The  breath  of  a  hot 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  277 

day  had  passed  over  the  pretty  garden,  and 
left  plants  and  greensward  dry  and  withered. 
The  branches  of  the  live-oak  hung  lifeless  in 
the  general  stillness.  The  door  swung  open 
in  a  hopeless  manner,  suggesting  sorrow  rath 
er  than  welcome  for  the  one  that  would  pass 
that  way. 

He  went  in. 

It  was  not  necessary  to  tell  him  what  had 
happened.  There,  in  the  room  where  he  had 
wooed  and  won  her,  where  life  had  seemed  to 
sparkle  and  glow  with  the  entrancing  fresh 
ness  of  youthful  passion,  where  it  had  held 
for  him  the  tenderest,  purest  hopes  that  had 
ever  garnered  despair — there  in  the  solemn 
stillness  which  touches  the  soul  with  keener 
agony  than  audible  sorrow,  there  in  calm 
rigidity  was  the  face  he  loved  so  well,  smiling 
in  its  dreamless  slumber  almost  as  it  had  done 
when  in  that  last  pressure  of  his  arms  he  had 
promised  no  long  absence. 

Through  the  broad,  open  window  the  sun 
shine  streamed  and  quivered  as  it  sought  and 
touched  the  hands  that  would  never  more  lift 
themselves  to  catch  its  warmth,  and  following 
its  beams  one  might  see  them  playing  lightly 


2/8  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

upon  the  little  white  bird  which  some  one  had 
placed  in  the  midst  of  the  flowers  with  which 
they  had  surrounded  her.  It  was  the  little 
white  blackbird  of  the  taxidermist's  shop.  No 
one  at  the  funeral,  except  John  or  Celine, 
would  suspect  its  dreadful  symbolism. 

For  once  Death  had  been  kind.  In  that 
eternal  sleep  was  blotted  out  every  record  but 
love.  She  was  gone  while  yet  John's  heart 
was  kindled  with  the  fire  of  his  chivalric  pas 
sion —  gone  before  the  slowly  accumulating 
forces  grounded  in  his  being  might  rally  to 
quench  its  light.  The  union  founded  against 
a  prejudice  so  strong  that  no  hypothesis  can 
be  constructed  deep  and  wide  enough  to  in 
clude  the  problem  of  its  existence,  had  been 
dissolved,  and  for  once,  one  might  repeat  it, 
Death  had  been  kind. 

When  John  Morant  had  passed  out  of  sight 
of  the  face  which  would  forever  abide  in  his 
memory,  some  one  came  to  him  and,  softly 
touching  him  on  the  arm,  spoke  a  few  words 
which  scarcely  conveyed  any  meaning  to  his 
bewildered  senses.  He  looked  into  his  sister's 
face,  while  her  words,  slowly  repeated  with  lov 
ing  tenderness,  became  distinct. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  279 

"  It  is  a  boy,  John.  Your  own  son,  prema 
turely  born,  but  still  living,  and  we  hope  for 
the  best.  Do  take  him  to  your  heart !" 

She  pointed  to  a  helpless  bit  of  humanity 
nestling  in  her  arms. 

His  son  !  Had  he  a  son  ?  He  looked  at 
the  small  frail  creature,  whose  pitiful  life  had 
outweighed  that  dearer  one.  All  the  bitter 
ness  of  months  gone  by  again  flooded  his 
soul.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  singled  out 
alone  of  all  men  for  the  irony  of  fate.  His 
son  !  No  fatherly  love,  no  parental  solicitude 
welled  up  in  his  heart  for  the  child.  Instead, 
a  violent  repulsion  overcame  him.  His  son ! 
Was  this  to  be  the  representative  of  his  race  ? 
He  gazed  hopelessly  at  the  new  type,  the  new 
heir  to  the  old  name,  while  his  hard,  cruel 
thoughts  took  form. 

"  Will  you  always  carry  in  your  veins,  min 
gled  with  the  blood  of  the  Morants,  a  degen 
erate  stain  ?  Can  no  measure  of  infinite  love 
and  compassion  blot  it  out  ?  Must  I  always 
be  pitiless  to  you?  Is  Nature  inexorable? 
What  transgression  of  her  laws  makes  me  her 
victim?" 

He  turned  away  in  despair.     The  burden 


28O  TOWARDS   THE   GULF. 

had  been  lifted  in  one  shape  only  to  be  im 
posed  upon  him  in  another.  The  little  one, 
as  if  in  pathetic  appeal,  cried  out,  and  Miss 
Isabel,  with  that  fine  motherly  instinct  given 
to  every  good  woman,  drew  him  close  to  her 
heart  and  hushed  his  wail. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  28 1 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

Miss  ISABEL  made  no  mistake  when  she 
decided  to  marry  Mr.  Byrne.  Despite  its  lack 
of  romantic  and  its  fulness  of  ridiculous  ele 
ments,  the  union  was  a  happy  one.  A  won 
derful  adaptability  constituted  her  great  point, 
and  Mr.  Byrne  was  not  hard  to  manage.  He 
apparently  gained  a  new  lease  of  life  through 
his  late  marriage,  and  was  less  vehement  in 
voicing  his  hobbies,  though  he  indulged  in 
profound  ruminations  upon  them,  if  one  might 
judge  from  the  habit  he  had  of  looking  long 
and  solemnly  into  vacancy,  protruding  all  the 
while  his  tightly-closed  lips,  and  then  sudden 
ly  contracting  them  as  if  his  wise  conclusions 
should  never  escape  him. 

His  wife  hovered  around  him  with  tender- 
est  care,  and  if  he  looked  pale  or  feeble  she 
was  full  of  solicitude  and  suggestions  of  rem 
edies,  including  a  wide  range  of  temperance 
tonics,  at  which  Mr.  Byrne  would  grow  some 
times  facetious,  sometimes  sarcastic. 


282  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

"  Never  mind  me,  my  dear;  you  shall  be  a 
fine  little  widow  soon  enough." 

And  she,  exclaiming  with  horror,  "  Oh,  I  do 
believe  you  have  wicked  thoughts,"  would  go 
off  by  herself  to  indulge  in  a  delicious  cry, 
while  Mr.  Byrne,  laughing  softly,  would  pro 
trude  and  contract  his  lips  more  vigorously 
than  ever. 

Mrs.  Byrne's  thoughts  and  tears  were  now 
never  bitter  nor  despairing  ones,  as  in  the  days 
when  her  bit  of  tatting  furnished  her  only 
resource  against  melancholy.  She  became 
an  authority  in  all  social  and  charitable  en 
terprises.  The  necessity  of  maintaining  the 
supremacy  in  such  matters  which  the  large 
fortune  of  Mr.  Byrne  had  enabled  her  to  as 
sume,  and  the  effort  to  make  herself  heard  in 
the  chattering  councils  of  pushing  aspirants 
for  the  place  of  distinction  that  she  enjoyed, 
told  upon  the  gentle  demeanor  which  she  had 
heretofore  cultivated,  believing  it  to  be  the 
test  of  fine  manners  and  good  breeding. 

Her  voice  might  sometimes  be  heard  with 
a  note  of  aggressiveness  in  it  which  approach 
ed  so  nearly  to  rudeness  that  the  line  of  de 
marcation  was  indistinct,  and  once  she  did  a 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  283 

thing  which  might  have  been  called  unkind. 
On  seeing  at  one  of  her  grand  entertainments 
a  little  old  maid,  gentle,  sweet-faced,  and  mod 
est  as  a  violet,  but  presented  to  view  as  the 
most  persistent  of  wallflowers — on  seeing  this 
creature,  the  very  type  of  her  former  self,  she 
failed  in  observing  the  code  of  her  ancestors, 
and  passed  her  by  and — laughed  ! 

Mr.  Byrne  placed  no  restrictions  on  his 
wife's  championship  of  new  ideas,  except  those 
looking  to  the  enlargement  of  woman's  sphere, 
and  even  then  his  opposition  was  kind. 

"  A  woman  has  enough  already  to  weigh 
her  down.  Don't  hunt  up  more  burdens  for 
her."  So  Mrs.  Byrne  confined  herself  to  high 
art,  and  headed  a  select  circle  of  enthusiastic 
friends  who  made  chair-backs  and  mantle- 
scarfs  and  an  infinite  number  of  impossibly 
useful  and  ornamental  articles.  Her  house, 
for  she  clung  to  the  old  Morant  mansion,  be 
came  very  grand  and  elegant  in  its  interior 
decorations. 

But  not  more  wonderful  were  the  changes 
in  the  old  house  than  those  which  ten  years 
of  time  brought  to  many  portions  of  the  old 
French  district.  The  carpenter,  the  painter, 


284  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

the  kalsominer  invaded  and  transformed  it. 
From  very  dilapidated  foundations  rose  houses 
clean,  fresh,  and  uncompromisingly  white,  ex 
cept  where  an  occasional  interloping  disciple 
of  the  early  English  put  on  some  aesthetic 
color.  The  shrewd  Jew  and  pushing  Gentile 
waked  the  rabais  merchants  from  somnolency 
and  taught  them  to  display  goods  in  every 
available  window,  ticketed,  all  regardless  of 
cost.  Even  the  little  taxidermist  freshened 
up  his  shop  with  new  specimens,  birds  of  all 
kinds  resting  on  impossible  green  branches, 
brightened  by  still  more  impossible  paper 
roses. 

And  these  were  the  things  which  most  fre 
quently  met  the  eyes  of  eager  tourists  who, 
beguiled  by  the  wonderful  descriptive  powers 
of  a  certain  brilliant  writer  of  Creole  days, 
prowled  around  the  old  district,  searching  in 
vain  for  the  peculiar  features  which  lent  a 
witching  interest  to  his  pen. 

Change  had  come  upon  the  household  and 
every  inmate  of  it  but  Celine.  That  turbaned 
head  and  dark  face  with  its  golden  earrings 
would  always  be  the  same  until  some  day 
when  they  would  disappear  forever.  Upon 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  285 

good  old  Major  Morant  had  come  the  might 
iest  change  of  all.  The  wonder  of  his  daugh 
ter's  marriage  constantly  increased.  The 
gentle  current  of  his  life  was  visibly  disturbed 
by  it,  and  one  day  he  quietly  and  peacefully 
set  sail  for  a  more  restful  shore,  leaving  old 
Mr.  Burton  adrift. 

From  the  hour  that  she  hushed  his  sobs 
against  her  tender  heart,  John's  son  became 
Mrs.  Byrne's  tender  charge,  and  Celine  was 
promoted  once  again  to  the  position  of  nurse. 
That  position  she  still  retained,  for  it  is  hard 
to  depose  a  negro  mammy,  and  she  glided 
about  the  house  with  an  inscrutable  look  that 
seemed  to  hold  all  mysteries  in  its  depths. 

Over  the  way  the  green  and  white  cottage 
had  grown  a  mansard  roof  and  a  bow-window, 
and  the  little  woman  who  had  flattened  her 
nose  against  the  less  aristocratic  window- 
panes  tried  faithfully  to  live  up  tcTthe  new 
dignities ;  but  she  could  not  forego  the  pleas 
ure  of  watching  her  neighbors  come  out  for 
a  ride.  A  thrill  of  excitement  would  shoot 
through  her  as  she  saw  the  fine  carnage  dash 
up  to  the  door  to  receive  its  occupants,  and 
she  could  have  told  her  far-away  Northern 


286  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

friends  the  invariable  order  in  which  they 
came.  First  always  Mrs.  Byrne,  with  an  ex 
traordinary  number  of  wraps,  then  a  feeble 
old  man,  and  last  but  one  a  small  restless 
boy,  who  bounced  up  and  down  on  the  cush 
ions  in  a  way  to  excite  the  ire  of  the  looker- 
on. 

"  She  hasn't  no  function  for  managing  chil 
dren.  I'd  stop  that  if  'twas  me.  Law,  how 
queer-looking  he  is,  anyway !  He  don't  look 
a  mite  like  any  of  them." 

And  then  the  colored  person,  old  Celine, 
whose  presence  was  important  to  the  small 
boy,  and  of  sarcastic  interest  to  the  neighbor : 

"  Mis'  Byrne  might  do  better  than  to  ride 
her  out." 

But  Mrs.  Byrne  was  no  longer  moved  by 
observation  that  would  have  been  painful  to 
Miss  Isabel.  Gone  with  poverty  and  obscuri 
ty  was  all  her  sensitiveness.  Her  doors  were 
wide  open  to  the  world. 

She  was  very  fond  and  very  proud  of  the 
little  boy  committed  to  her  care,  though  she, 
as  well  as  the  little  woman  over  the  way,  rec 
ognized  the  fact  that  he  was  like  none  of  the 
Morants.  Physical  beauty  was  not  wanting. 


TOWARDS  THE   GULF.  287 

The  slender  face  was  of  the  true  Hellenic 
type,  but  the  black,  close  curling  hair,  the 
large,  bold  black  eyes,  and  the  dusky  yellow 
skin  were  matters  of  comment. 

"  Will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me, 
my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Byrne,  one  day,  watching 
him  closely  at  his  play,  "  who  that  child  is 
like  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  responded  his  wife,  with  a  tri 
umphant  smile.  "  He  is  like  our  French  an 
cestors.  It  is  the  Huguenot  blood  which 
shows  itself  again  in  our  family." 

"Ah!"  said  he,  seemingly  quite  satisfied. 
And  then,  as  if  the  thought  had  again  pre 
sented  itself,  he  added,  like  one  quoting  au 
thority,  "  Individuals  having  a  specific  ten 
dency  towards  different  races  are  constantly 
being  born  in  every  family.  Now  I  would 
say—" 

"  I  know  what  you  would  say,"  interrupted 
his  wife,  vehemently.  "  You  would  say  what 
would  irritate  me  beyond  measure." 

"  Well,  well,  my  dear,"  returned  Mr.  Byrne, 
"  there  is  no  harm  done.  You  have  prevent 
ed  it."  And  he  began  that  movement  of  his 
mouth  which  intimated  that  the  subject  was 


288  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

closed  so  far  as  he  was  concerned.  But  his 
wife  was  much  astonished  and  gratified  when 
a  few  moments  later  he  rose  from  his  chair, 
came  near  her,  and  watching  her  outline  with 
bright  threads  the  great  M  that  she  was  em 
broidering  upon  the  child's  clothing,  said,  feel 
ingly, 

"  It  is  a  fine  thing,  my  dear,  to  come  of  no 
common  strain,  and  to  be  as  sure  of  that  fact 
as  you  are.  Family  pride  is  a  good  thing, 
and  I  honor  you  for  every  sensitive  defence 
of  it." 

By  this  time  Mrs.  Byrne's  eyes  were  moist. 
Mr.  Byrne  was  not  much  to  look  at ;  he  was 
old,  he  was  wrinkled,  and  uglier  than  he  it 
was  almost  impossible  to  be ;  but  he  was  very 
good,  and  he  appreciated  her. 

The  child,  too,  had  something  to  suffer, 
well  guarded  as  he  seemed  to  be  from  every 
thing  unpleasant  in  life.  He  could  not  es 
cape  malicious  remark.  Once  when  his  fa 
ther  was  sitting  with  Mrs.  Isabel,  just  as  they 
used  to  do  in  days  gone  by,  out  on  the  pleas 
ant  gallery,  talking  sadly  touching  that  mys 
terious  ordering  of  events  which  had  so 
changed  the  current  of  their  lives,  the  little 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  289 

boy  rushed  in  quivering  with  excitement,  and 
with  his  tear-stained  face  glowing  with  indig 
nation. 

"  Papa,  papa !"  exclaimed  he  ;  but  meeting 
with  no  answering  sympathy  in  his  father's 
eyes,  he  threw  himself  into  his  aunt's  arms  in 
the  utter  abandonment  of  grief. 

"  What  is  it,  my  child  ?  Do  tell  me,  my  dar 
ling,  what  grieves  you  ?"  she  asked,  in  caress 
ing  tones ;  then  turning  to  Celine,  who  had 
followed  the  child,  she  asked  again,  "  What  is 
the  matter?" 

The  old  woman  could  not,  or  would  not, 
explain. 

"  Ask  him,"  she  said,  impassively. 

"S'peak,  my  dear,"  once  more  urged  his 
aunt.  "  Tell  me  what  has  happened  ?" 

And  in  a  voice  broken  by  sobs  he  told  how 
he  and  Celine  had  gone  out  walking,  and  two 
boys — how  he  hated  them  ! — had  followed  him 
and  laughed  at  him,  and  Celine  had  tried  to 
hush  them,  but  they  said — here  his  little  body 
trembled,  and  putting  his  mouth  close  to  her 
ear,  he  whispered  the  words  he  could  not  utter 
aloud — 

"  To  bien  habi',  mais  to  un  neg'  quand 
19 


290  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

meme."    ("  You  are  well  dressed,  but  you 
a  negro  for  all  that.") 

For  a  moment  his  aunt  shared  his  indigi 
tion,  and  then,  laughing  lightly,  she  kissed 
him,  and  wiping  the  tears  from  his  eyes,  said, 
"  Why  should  you  care  for  such  nonsense  ? 
There,"  kissing  him  again,  "  run  away  to  your 
play,  my  darling,  and  pay  no  attention  to  any 
silly  words  of  naughty  boys." 

Turning  towards  John,  she  added, 

"Isn't  it  provoking?  If  I  were  not  proud 
of  the  likeness  to  the  old  Morants,  I  would  re 
gret  his  brunette  beauty ;  but  as  it  is,  I  can 
laugh  at  what  would  make  others  angry." 

A  gleam  shot  from  old  Celine's  eyes  as  she 
led  the  boy  away,  and  John  uttered  no  word 
as  his  sister,  unwilling  that  the  child  should 
go  without  another  caress,  rose  and  followed 
them. 

What  other  reversion  of  type  did  he  see  in 
that  small,  dark  face  ? 

It  was  that  which  scorched  his  brain  as  with 
fire,  that  secret  which  consumed  him  with  its 
never  ending  doubt,  that  other  likeness. 

What  if  no  one  but  himself  should  ever  see 
beyond  the  pleasant  fiction  which  deluded  his 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  2QI 

sister?  Could  that  help  him  to  bear  the  ter 
ror  of  the  truth  which  forever  faced  him  like 
a  mocking  spectre  ? 

The  sudden  death  of  his  wife  had  made  old 
associations  painful  to  him.  He  had  found 
relief  only  in  isolating  himself  from  those  who 
had  looked  upon  the  bright  side  of  his  life, 
and  in  the  early  days  of  his  sorrow  he  rarely 
visited  the  city. 

Bending  all  his  energies  towards  recovering 
the  old  plantation  from  the  disastrous  effects 
of  the  great  overflow,  it  became  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  year  his  home. 

The  constant  fluctuations  of  hope  and  de 
spair  in  the  heart  of  one  who  sees  his  fortune 
menaced  by  so  many  dangers  that  it  seems 
the  very  foot-ball  of  fate,  brings  an  excitement 
equalled  only  by  the  gambler's  hazard ;  and 
the  cotton-planter,  staking  his  all  upon  the 
chances  of  Nature,  must  have  a  brave  heart  to 
face  the  many  against  him. 

John  Morant's  luck  became  proverbial 
Hopeful  of  nothing,  he  came  to  feel  the  influ 
ence  of  Nature's  most  smiling  moods,  and  re 
ceived  such  gifts  at  her  hands  as  repaired  all 
the  ravages  of  her  previous  unfriendliness. 


2Q2  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

If  Nature  could  only  have  repaired  that  oth 
er  desolation  with  the  love  of  his  child !  But 
it  was  not  to  be.  He  could  not  bear  the  pres 
ence  of  his  son.  If  his  repulsion  had  been 
strong  when  the  boy  was  an  infant,  with  no 
distinguishing  characteristics  to  excite  emo 
tion,  it  was  infinitely  greater  with  his  growth. 
He  saw  the  gradual  unfolding  of  peculiarities 
which  could  only  be  translated  into  the  lan 
guage  of  his  fears.  The  child's  joyousness, 
his  frank,  unrestrained  gayety  were  not  to 
him  phases  of  all  child  life,  but  were  manifest 
as  the  key-note  of  an  irresponsible  nature. 
The  brunette  beauty  which  was  his  sister's 
pride  tortured  him.  Behind  the  great  black 
eyes  he  fancied  he  saw  a  soul  weighted  by 
centuries  of  degradation,  a  development  be 
low  the  standard  of  his  own  proud  race.  Of 
ten  as  he  looked  upon  the  boy  he  wondered 
what  instinct  raised  the  impassable  barrier 
between  them.  A  great  wall  divided  them ; 
break  it  down  he  could  not.  All  gracious, 
tender,  and  holy  sentiments  were  powerless 
before  it. 

The  child  was  conscious  of  this  hostile  scru 
tiny,  and,  like  all  children  to  whom  love  and 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  293 

confidence  are  the  heavenly  manna  which  sus 
tains  their  moral  nature,  he  appeared  to  dis 
advantage  under  his  father's  eyes.  Their  un 
friendly  light  fructified  seeds  of  cunning  and 
deceit,  the  rank  growth  of  which  were  but 
deeper  evidences  to  his  unhappy  father  of  a 
lower  nature. 

John  Morant  admitted  that  the  only  strong 
sentiment  he  could  ever  rouse  in  his  son  was 
fear. 

What  could  the  future  hold  in  store  for 
him  but  distressful  probabilities  ?  There  were 
hours  when  conscience  urged  him  to  draw 
near  the  child  and  shelter  him  with  the  only 
parental  love  he  could  ever  know ;  but  antipa 
thy  ruled  stronger  than  conscience. 

Sometimes  there  came  to  his  memory  that 
story  of  Royston,  the  story  told  by  Dr.  Dick- 
son  in  the  familiarity  of  those  other  days. 
What  a  story  that  was  of  self-abnegation  or 
self-degradation  !  Which  was  it  ?  What  was 
the  quality  which  carried  that  man  through 
the  ordeal  he  elected  to  undergo  ?  Was  it  a 
certain  moral  originality,  a  faithful  effort  tow 
ards  a  higher  form  of  virtue  than  the  conven 
tional  standard?  or  had  his  sense  of  honor, 


2Q4  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

coarsened  by  deteriorating  influences,  reached 
that  dulness  when  he  could  no  longer  feel  a 
stain  like  a  wound? 

Dickson  had  certainly  taken  the  higher 
view  of  the  case.  He  had  seen  in  that  surren 
der  of  all  for  another's  good  something  divine ; 
but  Dickson  was  quixotic  in  his  sympathies. 

Thus  waxing  and  waning  convictions  found 
ed  themselves  upon  every  variety  of  argument, 
but  through  them  all  there  was  never  a  mo 
ment  when  he  could  have  acted  other  than  as 
his  loyal  instincts  dictated,  as  the  mighty  re 
straining  traditions  of  his  time  demanded. 

It  was  in  one  of  these  tense  and  brooding 
moods  that  a  circumstance  occurred  which 
tended  to  increase  his  melancholy. 

The  day  had  been  close  and  warm,  and  re 
turning  early  to  the  old  house,  he  had  been 
lured  by  the  cool  dimness  of  the  parlor  to  rest 
there  a  moment,  without  making  his  presence 
known.  His  father's  old  chair  was  in  the  most 
secluded  corner,  and  dropping  into  it,  he  gave 
himself  up  to  the  thoughts  which  most  des 
perately  pursued  him  when  he  was  alone. 

He  heard  his  sister's  voice  in  the  hall  speak 
ing  to  Celine. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  295 

"  I  am  very  tired  and  need  rest,  and  am  not 
at  home  to  anybody." 

She  came  into  the  room  where  he  sat  with 
out  observing  him.  In  her  hand  she  held  a 
package  of  bonbons,  and  going  towards  a  small 
desk,  near  a  front  window,  she  opened  it,  and 
placed  the  package  inside.  Turning  the  key 
in  the  lock  without  removing  it,  she  said, 
aloud, 

"  There,  he  will  not  find  them  there,  and  he 
must  eat  no  more  to-day ;"  and  she  went  away 
still  without  seeing  her  brother. 

Some  time  afterwards,  John's  reverie  was 
disturbed  by  a  slight  grating  noise,  and  a 
sound  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  little  mouse 
whisking  itself  among  carefully  stored  papers. 
Accustomed  as  he  had  become  to  the  dimness 
of  the  room,  it  was  still  difficult  for  him  to  dis 
cover  the  small,  dark  object  which  caused  it ; 
but  contracting  his  brows,  even  shading  his 
eyes  with  his  hand  to  gain  directness  of  vision, 
he  saw  it.  The  desk  was  open,  the  package 
of  bonbons  was  open,  and  there,  stealthily  con 
veying  the  sweets  to  mouth  and  pocket,  was 
the  child. 

One  would  have  said  it  was  a  small  thing, 


296  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

suggestive  of  nothing,  an  act  to  be  reproved 
and  forgotten  ;  but  the  effect  it  produced  upon 
John  was  beyond  the  measure  of  the  misde 
meanor.  He  was  seized  with  an  intolerable 
sense  of  shame.  The  hand  which  he  had 
raised  above  his  eyes  closed  over  them.  He 
could  not  bring  himself  to  confront  the  child 
with  his  knowledge  of  its  fault,  and  he  re 
mained  silent. 

It  might  have  passed  away  from  his  mind, 
but  the  following  morning  he  was  near  by 
when  his  sister  reproved  the  child  for  the  fact 
which  she  had  discovered,  and  he  heard  him 
deny  it.  Rage  seized  upon  him  then  as  thor 
oughly  as  shame  had  done. 

To  lie  and  steal !  Was  that  what  was  in 
him  ?  He  would  teach  him  as  others  had  been 
taught.  He  advanced  and  struck  him. 

It  was  the  first  and  only  punishment  he 
ever  gave  the  boy;  for  that  evening  Celine 
told  him  a  secret  which  she  had  kept  since 
that  morning  when  she  had  wakened  and  seen 
the  white  daylight  coming  through  the  half- 
drawn  curtain,  to  show  her  what  the  night  had 
brought. 

That  which  would  have  criminated  herself 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  297 

she  left  untold ;  but  that  Bamma  had  in  some 
way  discovered  his  fatal  suspicion  she  made 
clear  to  him,  and  that  she  had  had  the  cour 
age  to  go  far  away  from  it.  What  others 
had  thought,  what  the  physician  had  thought, 
might  never  transpire ;  but  Celine  had  lifted 
the  fatal  cloth  from  her  face,  and  she  knew. 
Not  one  of  the  details  was  spared  him,  for  she 
had  learned  to  love  the  little  boy,  and  as  he 
had  struck  so  did  she  strike. 

He  received  the  blow  with  no  outward  dem 
onstration  of  the  shock.  He  had  learned  to 
bear  much ;  but  in  the  long  night-time  which 
followed,  the  new  sorrow  brought  with  it  a 
new  suggestion.  For  him  alone,  he  believed, 
his  wife  had  sacrificed  herself,  for  his  sake, 
and  he  had  been  cruel  to  her  child ! 


298  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  chimes  of  the  old  cathedral  had  not 
yet  sounded  the  Angelus.  The  air  had  all  the 
chill  dampness  of  an  hour  remote  from  yester 
day's  last  sunbeam,  that  which  had  gilded  the 
statue  in  Jackson  Square,  withdrawn  itself, 
and  died  upon  the  surface  of  the  river.  A 
cough  as  if  the  dampness  was  trying  to  hu 
man  comfort,  the  ring  of  a  heel  upon  the  ban 
quette,  a  figure  here  and  there  moving  rapid 
ly,  and  John  Morant  felt  that  he  was  not 
alone  upon  the  street. 

Restless  and  sleepless,  he  had  passed  a 
weary  night,  and  when  he  could  make  a  pre 
tence  of  sleep  no  longer  he  had  risen  and 
dressed  himself,  waiting  for  the  day.  A  curi 
ous  interest  suddenly  stirred  him,  a  desire  to 
observe  the  peculiar  population  which  goes 
forth  in  the  dark,  misty,  morning  hours,  and 
surges  through  the  French  market. 

A  place  of  many  traditions,  it  is  also  a  place 
of  many  disappointments ;  but  to  a  keen  ob- 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  299 

server  the  great  market-place  below  Canal 
Street  affords  an  excellent  opportunity  of  see 
ing  certain  conditions  of  life  rarely  met  with 
elsewhere.  For  this  reason  it  attracted  John 
Morant. 

Going  early,  and  following  the  indications 
of  those  who  went  onward  towards  that  cen 
tral  point  of  distribution  of  everything  to  meet 
the  wants  of  a  mass  of  humanity,  he  felt  the 
stillness  of  the  streets  less  oppressive  than  the 
din  and  uproar  which  gradually  opened  upon 
him  as  he  advanced,  and  became  a  veritable 
pandemonium  as  he  entered  the  place.  Calls 
of  birds  and  fowls,  merry  laughter,  fierce  de 
nunciations,  and  cries  in  every  known  lan 
guage  greeted  him.  Wandering  for  a  while 
up  and  down,  distracted  by  the  confusion  of 
tongues  and  the  discordant  sounds,  he  at  last 
took  position  near  a  stand  where  the  artistic 
arrangement  of  green  and  golden  fruit  was  as 
pleasing  to  his  eye  as  to  many  others  who 
passed  that  way. 

It  was  a  fit  time  and  place  to  study  the  faces 
of  those  filing  in  endless  procession  before 
him.  Smiling,  frowning,  pushing,  elbowing 
their  way,  coarse,  brutal  men,  delicate  women, 


300  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

young  children,  of  every  hue  and  every  shade 
under  the  sun,  they  went  by.  Certain  types 
presented  themselves  more  frequently  than 
others.  The  burly  African,  with  flat  nose,  pro 
truding,  sensual  mouth,  and  shining  ebony 
skin,  the  smirking  mulatto,  aggressive  in  the 
first  step  towards  the  higher  plane,  the  pa 
thetic,  dark-eyed  quadroon,  who  sees  the  shad 
ow  not  yet  lifted,  the  pale,  consumptive  octo 
roon  struggling  with  the  burden  of  physical 
weakness — these  seemed  almost  sinister  in 
their  constant  reappearance.  They  represent 
ed  to  his  morbid  vision  the  foundations  of  a 
social  structure  which  philanthropy  and  the 
coming  years  were  to  erect. 

The  sentimental  side  of  his  nature  could 
comprehend  the  force  of  the  abstract  as  well 
as  actual  presentation  of  the  claims  of  the  sad- 
eyed  women  to  be  raised  from  the  lowliness  of 
their  estate.  Since  the  world  began,  men's 
hearts  have  responded  to  the  pitiableness  of 
woman's  condition,  the  slavery  of  it  appealing 
to  them  as  all  bondage  appeals. 

He  could  well  understand  the  potency  of 
sex  as  a  factor  in  the  case.  If  his  own  child's 
eyes  had  looked  up  to  him  from  a  sweet  girl- 


TOWARDS   THE   GULF.  30 1 

face,  challenging  the  height  and  depth  of  hu 
man  love,  they  would  have  been  invested  with 
a  pathos  touching  the  measure  of  human  sym 
pathies  ;  but  all  the  intellectual  pride  and 
strength  of  his  nature  protested  against  the 
degradation  of  a  mongrel  race. 

Was  it  imminent  ?  Were  the  years  bring 
ing  it  ?  Would  others  suffer  the  fantastic  fate 
that  had  come  to  him?  He  watched  the  ka 
leidoscopic  stream  pouring  through  the  heavy 
archways,  going  out  and  coming  in,  always 
grinding  the  same  grist,  light  and  dark,  dark 
and  light,  white  and  yellow,  yellow  and  white, 
until  his  heart  sank  within  him,  his  brain  grew 
dull.  And  it  was  time  to  go.  The  sun  was 
high  over  the  old  cathedral,  the  prayers  of  the 
latest  devotee  were  said,  and  the  city  had  taken 
on  the  look  of  the  long,  weary  day. 

Through  some  impulse  strangely  at  vari 
ance  with  his  usual  indifference  to  his  son, 
that  morning  he  resolved  to  return  at  once  to 
the  old  plantation,  and  to  take  the  child  with 
him.  Since  that  blow  a  remorseful  pity  had 
entered  his  heart,  very,  very  faint,  but  growing 
slowly.  He  could  not  give  him  love,  but  he 
might  grant  him  indulgence,  so  the  boy  went. 


302  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

The  plantation  was  in  all  the  glory  of  a 
great  crop.  The  picking  season  had  begun. 
The  parallel  green  lines  were  all  obliterated ; 
far  across  the  intervening  spaces  the  branches 
twined  and  laced  in  one  solid  mass  of  foliage, 
blossom  and  boll,  and  the  busy  pickers  were 
all  there,  those  whom  the  major  would  have 
rejoiced  to  see  bending  to  the  task  of  recon 
structing  the  fortunes  of  the  Morants. 

To  the  restless  boy,  unrestrained  by  any 
forced  companionship  with  his  father,  there 
seemed  nothing  comparable  to  the  beauty  of 
the  place  and  the  wild  freedom  he  there  en 
joyed.  He  was  here,  there,  and  everywhere 
over  it.  When  the  tired  mules  detached  from 
the  wagons  shook  themselves,  with  one  rest 
less  quiver  of  the  flesh,  free  of  the  burden 
some  harness,  he  was  ready  to  mount  the  gen 
tlest  and  trot  away  to  the  bayou  where,  under 
the  shadow  of  the  willows,  they  cooled  their 
heated  flanks.  And  after  sunset,  even  after 
the  twilight  had  faded,  when  the  negroes 
grouped  themselves  around  the  scales,  those 
important  witnesses  of  their  idleness  or  indus 
try,  he  was  there  shouting,  laughing,  or  lifting 
the  glowing  lantern  to  the  registering  numbers. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  303 

But  the  spot  which  most  fascinated  him 
was  the  gin-house. 

The  whir  of  machinery  stirred  some  wild, 
uncanny  spirit  within  him.  His  black  eyes 
would  roll,  his  white  teeth  gleam,  and  his 
small  body  sway  to  and  fro  as  if  in  response 
to  some  melody  it  sounded,  which  he  alone 
could  hear. 

At  the  gin-house,  too,  there  were  huge  plat 
forms  where  the  snow-white  staple  lay  drying 
in  the  sun.  He  enjoyed  rolling  over  and  over 
on  it  like  some  little  animal  in  kittenish  play. 
Then  when  he  was  tired  he  would  scamper 
away,  into  the  building,  up  the  stair-ways  to 
the  topmost  story,  where  piles  of  the  same 
snowy  stuff  lay  stored  ready  to  be  raked  into 
the  great  hoppers  from  which  it  fell  down 
upon  the  rolling  saws  of  the  gin  beneath. 

There  were  peeps  into  the  lint-room  where 
Uncle  Dan'l  presided,  the  beau  ideal  St.  Nick, 
if  ever  the  old  saint  wore  an  ebony  mask. 

How  cool  the  draught  of  the  flues  as  they 
poured  the  light  snowy  flakes  out  in  steady 
streams,  piling  great  drifts  in  the  corners,  and 
hanging  such  draperies  upon  the  rafters  as 
would  have  delighted  the  eye  of  an  artist. 


304  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

And  the  talks  with  Uncle  Dan'l.  Was 
ever  any  one  as  willing  to  talk  and  to  listen 
as  he  ? 

"  You  never  get  tired  working  in  here,  do 
you,  Uncle  Dan'l?" 

"  I  nebber  gits  tired  wo'king  nowhar,  chile. 
Dar's  two  things  Ise  allus  willin'  an'  glad  ter 
do — to  wo'k  an'  pray." 

"  Are  they  both  very  tiresome  things,  Uncle 
Dan'l?" 

"  Wo'k  an'  pra'rs  is  bof  alike,  chile.  Dey 
'pen's  on  de  sperrit.  Yes,  dey  'pen's  on  de 
sperrit,  dat's  de  truf.  Now,  I  done  seen  some 
folks  'dotit  de  sperrit  so  owdashus  lazy  dat  it 
'peared  like  dey  didn't  hav'  no  'clinashun  to 
draw  der  breaf,  but  dem  folks  is  allus  jest  as 
cunnin'  as  de  coon.  Dey  know  how  to  fotch 
up  at  sum'  un  else's  corn  patch.  En  as  toe  de 
sperrit  fo'  pra'rs,  dar's  some  folks  allus  axin'  fo' 
de  merrit  uv  grate  tribbleashuns,  so  as  ter  git 
to  hebben  mi'ty  quick ;  an'  when  de  trubble  do 
come,  dey  lites  out  an'  leaves  sum'  un  else  toe 
clar  away  de  things." 

"  Did  you  ever  have  any  of  your  prayers 
answered,  Uncle  Dan'l?" 

"  Toe  be  sho',  chile,  toe  be,  sho'  I  has.    My 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  305 

pra'rs  is  allus  answered.  What  makes  yo'  ax 
a  question  like  dat  ?" 

Uncle  Dan'l  stopped  a  moment  for  the 
child's  reply,  and  then  added,  warningly,  as  he 
came  too  far  in  the  current  of  the  snowy 
stream, 

"  Yo'  jest  better  git  'way  from  dar  a  little 
bit,  honey.  Yo'  pappy  ain't  gwine  toe  like  fo' 
yo'  toe  git  dat  cotton  in  yo'  t'roat.  He'll  be  a 
blamin'  me." 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,  Uncle  Dan'l.  He 
won't  care.  I  was  just  going  to  ask  you  if  you 
prayed  for  him  to  love  me,  would  it  do  any 
good  ?" 

"  Well,  yo'  is  a  cur'us  chile,  sho'.  What 
makes  yo'  t'ink  yo'  pappy  don'  luv  yo'  ?" 

"  Oh,  well,  I  don't  know ;  but  I  am  always 
so  scared  when  he  calls  me.  Were  you  ever 
scared  of  anybody  ?" 

"  Skeered,  chile  ?  Why  toe  be  sho'  Ise  been 
skeered.  My  ole  master  wuz  a  pow'ful  hand 
toe  skeer  folks.  Dar  warn't  his  ekal  in  de 
parish." 

"And  what  did  you  do  when  you  were 
scared  ?" 

"  He !  he  !  he !  Chile,  yo'  axes  too  many 
20 


306  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

queschums,"  said  the  old  man,  as  he  passed 
out  of  the  lint- room  closely  followed  by  the 
boy.  "  Ef  yo'  keep  on  axin'  queschums  I  lay 
I'll  tell  yo'  sumpin'  what  ain't  true.  Nobody 
can't  answer  too  many  queschums  'thout  git- 
tin'  up  inter  the  'magernashums." 

"  What  sort  of  place  is  that  ?" 

The  old  negro  paused  a  moment,  chuckled 
softly  to  himself  at  the  boy's  open-eyed  won 
der,  and  said, 

"  I  ain't  gwine  toe  tell  yo',  fo'  I  mout  git 
dar." 

The  boy  looked  at  Uncle  Dan'l  a  moment, 
and  then  recognizing  the  fact  that  the  old  ne 
gro  had  gone  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  prob 
able,  he  bounded  away  with  a  gay  laugh. 

"  My  Lord !"  said  Uncle  Dan'l,  with  a  sud 
den  sound  of  anxiety  in  his  voice,  "  whar's  dat 
boy  gwine  now  ?" 

The  child,  with  his  usual  inability  to  think 
long  or  seriously  of  any  one  thing,  went  dan 
cing  and  singing  and  whistling  about  the  dan 
gerous  places,  until  it  made  the  old  man's 
head  dizzy  to  look  at  him. 

"  Yo'  gwine  toe  git  hurt  sho',"  he  called  to 
him. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

"  Oh  no,  I  will  not,  Uncle  Dan'l,"  he  an- 
swered,  confidently ;  "  I  can  take  care  of  my 
self.  See  me." 

The  great  wheel  was  turning  and  turning 
in  never-ending  revolutions  when  the  child 
stopped  to  look  at  it,  and  he  was  seized  with 
a  desire  to  imitate  its  motion.  Extending  his 
arms,  he  whirled  them  round  and  round  like 
circling  wings,  and  with  the  motions  of  some 
fascinated  bird  he  approached  nearer  and 
nearer. 

"  See,  Uncle  Dan'l,"  he  called,  gleefully,  "  I 
am  going  to  that  place ;  you  know  where." 

His  out-stretched  hands  touched  the  wheel 
Some  portion  of  his  clothing  must  have 
caught  in  the  band  which  suddenly  held  him 
in  its  cruel  grasp. 

Over  and  over  went  the  wheel,  bearing  with 
it  a  burden  weightier  than  all  the  snowy  treas 
ures  ever  garnered  to  test  its  powers. 

With  the  first  note  of  warning  the  wheel 
ceased  to  turn,  but  among  all  the  probabilities 
Life  was  the  farthest  removed  from  the  child. 

When  the  father  came  the  little  shattered 
body  was  lying  upon  the  downy,  snow-white 
couch  to  which  Uncle  Dan'l  had  brought  it. 


308  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

The  end  was  not  far  off,  that  much  John  Mo- 
rant  could  see.  His  breath  went,  as  it  were, 
out  of  his  own  body.  Then  Nature  triumphed, 
the  father's  heart  asserted  itself,  and  that  same 
cry  which  generations  ago  went  up  to  heaven, 
again  ascended :  "  My  son,  would  God  I  had 
died  for  thee  !"  In  that  supreme  moment  all 
barriers  were  broken  down. 

Bending  low  over  the  little  form,  he  found 
that  the  child  still  breathed.  He  clasped  his 
arms  around  him  and  lifted  him  a  little,  so 
that  the  head  lay  where  it  never  before  had 
rested,  in  the  hollow  of  the  father's  strong  and 
loving  arm. 

The  child's  breath  came  hard  and  fast,  and 
he  opened  his  black  eyes  to  meet  the  look  of 
sympathy  strange  to  him.  A  splendid  light 
as  of  some  new  intelligence  born  of  the  death- 
struggle  illumined  them  and  made  them  beau 
tiful  to  John  Morant,  even  to  that  last  mo 
ment  when  light  and  life  were  gone. 

Through  the  gathering  moisture  which 
veiled  his  vision,  the  light  shone  down  deep 
into  the  father's  heart.  It  glorified  the  great 
humanity  quickening  there.  Alas  !  its  fading 
radiance  also  touched  one  unchangeable  truth. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  309 

It  was  better  so.  In  life  there  could  have 
been  no  happy  meeting  face  to  face.  Death 
only  had  made  them  equals  —  unless  after 
death,  also,  the  distinctions  of  race  are  pre 
served  forever. 

But  somewhere  there  must  be  light.  Would 
he  ever  see  it  ?  And  would  he  some  day  meet 
them  both  again,  his  wife  and  child,  with  the 
pressure  of  this  "  unintelligible  world  "  lifted 
from  his  soul  ? 

At  least,  for  this  life,  he  had  escaped  the 
gulf  towards  which  he  had  been  drifting. 


3IO  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

ONE  person  still  mourns  the  death  of  John 
Morant's  little  son.  The  dark  skin  and  wilful 
ways  which  brought  grief  to  the  father's  heart 
are  always  the  occasion  of  fond  comment  for 
Mrs.  Byrne.  She  persistently  and  with  great 
pride  maintains  that  "  He  was  like  the  old 
Morants." 

When  she  greets  her  brother  the  tears 
spring  to  her  eyes  more  readily  even  than  in 
the  olden  time,  since  each  meeting  with  him 
recalls  most  vividly  the  child  she  loved  as  her 
own.  She  is  very  happy,  however,  in  her  mar 
riage.  Late  wedded  is  sometimes  well  wed 
ded,  and  she  and  Mr.  Byrne  live  lovingly  to 
gether.  If  he  ever  thinks  his  large  fortune  is 
being  lavishly  expended,  he  makes  no  sign. 
One  curious  idea  possesses  Mrs.  Byrne.  So 
certain  is  she  that  Clemence  the  coiffeuse  was 
the  architect  of  her  new  fortunes,  that  she  has 
secured  by  her  grateful  exertions  an  immense 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  3!  I 

patronage  and  popularity  for  that  very  gen 
teel  colored  artiste. 

It  was  only  a  short  while  ago  that  John  Mo- 
rant  was  tempted  to  stroll  through  the  old 
French  quarter,  without  avoiding,  as  he  usual 
ly  did,  the  direction  of  the  little  taxidermist's 
shop.  He  came  upon  it  unexpectedly.  It  was 
closed.  Faded  green  shutters  barred  the  win 
dow  and  door-way,  while  over  the  latter  a 
busy  spider  was  beginning  to  weave  a  web 
from  frame  to  shutter.  As  he  stood  wonder 
ing  at  the  change,  an  old  woman  crossed  the 
street  to  say  to  him, 

"  Dose  people  gon'  to  France." 

"  To  live  ?"  inquired  John,  with  eager  inter 
est  in  his  voice. 

"  Me,  I  don'  say  fo'  true,"  responded  the 
woman, "  but  som'  bodie  say,  Marie  haf  one 
redlashon  in  France,  an'  she  leef  her  som'  nize 
properties,  an'  dey  all  'e  time  goin'  t'  lif  dere." 

John  received  this  announcement  with  no 
small  degree  of  satisfaction.  He  felt  sure  that 
the  taxidermist  as  well  as  his  wife  had  sus 
pected  some  far-off  taint  in  Bamma's  blood, 
and  he  feared  that  their  volubility  increasing 
with  years  might  transfer  their  impressions  to 


312  TOWARDS  THE   GULF. 

other  and  less  friendly  minds.  To  feel  that 
possibility  no  longer  confronting  him  is  a  re 
lief.  He  has,  however,  a  constant  memento 
of  Emile  and  Marie  in  the  white  blackbird, 
that  freak  of  nature  which  occupies  a  place 
upon  his  library  mantle-piece  instead  of  the 
contemplated  raven  above  the  chamber  door, 
as  it  serves  much  the  same  purpose  of  arous 
ing  similar  but  more  subdued  elements  of  sor 
row  and  despair. 

Retaining  the  house  in  the  city  which  he 
once  called  home,  John  Morant  rarely  enters 
it.  For  the  greater  part  of  the  year  it  is  closed, 
and  passers-by  comment  discontentedly  on 
the  unequal  distribution  of  wealth  which  per 
mits  waste  for  some  and  want  for  others. 
When  he  does  occupy  it  Dr.  Dickson  and  Rev. 
Mr.  Shriver  renew  their  visits  to  his  library, 
and  indulge  freely  in  their  literary  and  philo 
sophical  discussions.  John  always  takes  a 
quiet  and  interested  part  in  them,  except 
when  they  broach  the  old  questions  of  races 
and  the  possibilities  of  negro  culture.  Then 
he  becomes  a  silent  and  even  involuntary  list 
ener,  in  strange  contrast  with  his  former  ap 
parently  profound  absorption  in  these  studies. 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  313 

It  is  observed,  however,  that  John  Morant  is 
an  unostentatious  but  energetic  friend  of  the 
negro  race.  He  assists  them  personally  on 
every  proper  occasion,  and  advocates  their 
systematic  education  and  their  rights  to  un 
trammelled  citizenship. 

One  may  visit  the  old  Morant  plantation 
any  day  and  be  convinced  that  the  less  suc 
cessful  neighbors  are  wrong  in  attributing 
John  Morant's  success  to  "his  good-luck  in 
securing  the  best  hands  in  the  country." 
Quick  observers  note  the  just  dealings  with 
those  employed  by  him.  The  zeal  for  the 
master's  interest  springs  from  a  knowledge  of 
its  sure  return  in  kind. 

One  old  "  hand  "  is  now  missed  from  the 
place.  Uncle  Dan'l  has  been  gathered  to  his 
sable  fathers.  He  died  like  a  good  planter  and 
true  Methodist,  alternately  in  his  delirium  as 
signing  their  work  to  the  field- hands  and 
shouting  glory  to  God.  He  was  buried  at 
his  own  request  under  a  great,  solitary  oak 
in  the  cotton-field,  amid  the  singing,  praying, 
weeping,  and  shouting  of  the  whole  colored 
congregation,  while  white  neighbors  paying  a 
tribute  of  respect  to  genuine  worth,  gave  grace 


314  TOWARDS  THE  GULF. 

and  dignity  to  the  occasion.  He  may  not  have 
reached  the  golden -streeted  Jerusalem  of  his 
childish  imagination,  but  all  who  knew  him 
concur  in  the  belief  that  he  has  "  gone  where 
the  good  niggers  go." 

Old  Celine  has  so  recently  passed  away  that 
the  servants  and  neighbors  are  still  talking  of 
the  rosewood  coffin,  the  magnificent  flowers, 
the  train  of  carnages,  and  the  "  beautiful  fu 
neral,"  which  the  old  Southern  family  gave  to 
its  freed -woman  so  long  their  slave.  The 
white-souled  negress  was  stately  and  reticent 
to  the  last,  concealing  in  the  dark  shadows  of 
her  own  bosom  the  terrible  secret  of  Bamma 
Morant.  The  family  surrounded  her  death 
bed.  Dr.  Dickson  and  Mr.  Shriver  having  ex 
hausted  their  special  duties,  stood  by  with 
folded  arms.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Byrne  sat  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed  with  grave  countenances. 
John's  chair  was  close  to  the  bedside,  and  he 
was  holding  with  a  gentle  pressure  her  with 
ered,  bronzed  hand  in  his  own.  The  servants 
occupied  the  windows  and  the  door -way. 
There  was  perfect  silence  in  the  room  save 
the  ticking  of  the  clock  on  the  mantel. 

Suddenly  the  expiring  woman  opened  her 


TOWARDS  THE  GULF.  315 

eyes  and  fixed  them  tenderly  on  the  sympa 
thetic  face  of  the  man  whom  she  had  nursed 
as  babe  and  child.  The  spirit  escaping  out 
of  space  seemed  to  have  lost  the  true  concep 
tion  of  time.  Slowly  and  anxiously  she  mut 
tered  her  last  words : 

"  Don'  go  dat  way,  honey !  not  dat  way,  it's 
mizry." 

Words  of  profound  significance  to  John 
Morant,  but  unintelligible  to  all  the  rest. 


THE    END. 


BEN-HUE:  A  TALE  OF  THE  CHRIST. 


By  LEW,  WALLACE,     New  Edition,     pp.  552.     16mo, 
*  Cloth,  $1  50. 

Anything  so  startling,  new,  and  distinctive  as  the  leading  feature  of  this 
romance  does  not  often  appear  in  works  of  fiction.  .  .  .  Some  of  Mr.  Wal 
lace's  writing  is  remarkable  for  its  pathetic  eloquence.  The  scenes  de 
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Its  real  basis  is  a  description  of  the  life  of  the  Jews  and  Romans  at  the 
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will  be  kept  at  the  highest  pitch,  and  the  novel  will  be  pronounced  by  all 
one  of  the  greatest  novels  of  the  day. — Boston  Post, 

It  is  full  of  poetic  beauty,  as  though  born  of  an  Eastern  sage,  and  there 
is  sufficient  of  Oriental  customs,  geography,  nomenclature,  etc.,  to  greatly 
strengthen  the  semblance. — Boston  Commonwealth. 

"Ben-Hur"  is  interesting,  and  its  characterization  is  fine  and  strong. 
Meanwhile  it  evinces  careful  study  of  the  period  in  which  the  scene  is  laid, 
and  will  help  those  who  read  it  with  reasonable  attention  to  realize  the 
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It  is  really  Scripture  history  of  Christ's  time  clothed  gracefully  and 
delicately  in  the  flowing  and  loose  drapery  of  modern  fiction.  .  .  .  Few  late 
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One  of  the  most  remarkable  and  delightful  books.  It  is  as  real  and 
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The  book  is  one  of  unquestionable  power,  and  will  be  read  with  un 
wonted  interest  by  many  readers  who  are  weary  of  the  conventional  novel 
and  romance. — Boston  Journal. 


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Miss  Woolson  is  among  our  few  successful  writers  of  interesting  mag 
azine  stories,  and  her  skill  and  power  are  perceptible  in  the  delineation  of 
her  heroines  no  less  than  in  the  suggestive  pictures  of  local  life. — Jewish, 
Ifesscnyer,  N.  Y. 

Constance  Fenimore  Woolson  may  easily  become  the  novelist  laureate, 
— Boston  Globe. 

Miss  Woolson  has  a  graceful  fancy,  a  ready  wit,  a  polished  style,  and 
conspicuous  dramatic  power;  while  her  skill  in  the  development  of  a 
story  is  very  remarkable. — London  Life. 

Miss  Woolson  never  once  follows  the  beaten  track  of  the  orthodox  nov 
elist,  but  strikes  a  new  and  richly  loaded  vein  which,  so  far,  is  all  her 
own ;  and  thus  we  feel,  on  reading  one  of  her  works,  a  fresh  sensation, 
and  we  put  down  the  book  with  a  sigh  to  think  our  pleasant  task  of  read 
ing  it  is  finished.  The  author's  lines  must  have  fallen  to  her  in  very 
pleasant  places  ;  or  she  has,  perhaps,  within  herself  the  wealth  of  woman 
ly  love  and  tenderness  she  pours  so  freely  into  all  she  writes.  Such  books 
as  hers  do  much  to  elevate  the  moral  tone  of  the  day — a  quality  sadly 
wanting  in  novels  of  the  time. —  Whitehall  Review,  London. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

ffST  IIARPKR  &  BROTHERS  will  send  the  above  works  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to 
any  part  of  tlie  United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


THE   BREAD-WINNERS. 

A  Social  Study.     16mo,  Cloth,  $1  00. 


One  of  the  strongest  and  most  striking  stories  of  the  last  ten  years.  .  .  . 
The  work  of  a  very  clever  man ;  it  is  told  with  many  lively  strokes  of  hu 
mor  ;  it  sparkles  with  epigram ;  it  is  brilliant  with  wit.  .  .  .  The  chief 
characters  in  it  are  actually  alive ;  they  are  really  flesh  and  blood ;  they 
are  at  once  true  and  new ;  and  they  are  emphatically  and  aggressively 
American.  The  anonymous  author  has  a  firm  grip  on  American  character. 
He  has  seen,  and  he  has  succeeded  in  making  us  sec,  facts  and  phases  of 
American  life  which  no  one  has  put  into  a  book  before.  .  .  .  Interesting, 
earnest,  sincere ;  fine  in  its  performance,  and  finer  still  in  its  promise. — 
Saturday  Review,  London. 

A  worthy  contribution  to  that  American  novel-literature  which  is  at  the 
present  day,  on  the  whole,  ahead  of  our  own. — Pall  Mall  Gazette,  London. 

Praise,  and  unstinted  praise,  should  be  given  to  "  The  Bread-Winners." 
— N.  Y.  Times. 

It  is  a  novel  with  a  plot,  rounded  and  distinct,  upon  which  every  episode 
has  a  direct  bearing.  .  .  .  The  book  is  one  to  stand  nobly  the  test  of  im 
mediate  re-reading. —  Critic,  N.  Y. 

It  is  a  truly  remarkable  book. — N.  Y.  Journal  of  Commerce. 

As  a  vigorous,  virile,  well-told  American  story,  it  is  long  since  we  have 
had  anything  as  good  as  "  The  Bread-Winners." — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 

Every  page  of  the  book  shows  the  practised  hand  of  a  writer  to  whom 
long  use  has  made  exact  literary  expression  as  easy  and  spontaneous  as 
the  conversation  of  some  of  those  gifted  talkers  who  are  at  once  the 
delight  and  the  envy  of  their  associates.  .  .  .  We  might  mention  many 
scenes  which  seem  to  us  particularly  strong,  but  if  we  began  such  a 
catalogue  we  should  not  know  where  to  stop. — N.  Y.  Tribune. 

Within  comparatively  few  pages  a  story  which,  as  a  whole,  deserves  to 
be  called  vigorous,  is  tersely  told.  .  .  .  The  author's  ability  to  depict  the 
mental  and  moral  struggles  of  those  who  are  poor,  and  who  believe  them 
selves  oppressed,  is  also  evident  in  his  management  of  the  strike  and  in 
his  delineation  of  the  characters  of  Sam  Sleeny,  a  carpenter's  journeyman, 
and  Ananias  Offit,  the  villain  of  the  story.  .  .  .  The  characters  who  bring 
into  play  and  work  out  the  author's  ideas  are  all  well  drawn,  and  their  in 
dividuality  maintained  and  developed  with  a  distinctness  that  shows  inti 
mate  familiarity  with  the  subject,  as  well  as  unquestionable  ability  in  deal 
ing  with  it. — N.  Y.  Evening  Telegram. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

HAKPEK  &  BROTHERS  will  send  the  above  work  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any 
part  of  the  United  States  or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


AT  THE  RED  GLOVE. 

A  Novel.     Illustrated   by  C.  S.  REINIIART.      pp.  240. 
12mo,  Extra  Cloth,  $1  50. 


We  have  tried  to  express  our  admiration  of  the  brilliant  talents  which 
the  "Red  Glove"  displays — the  accurate  knowledge  shown  of  localities; 
the  characteristics  of  the  surrounding  population,  and  the  instinctive  read 
ing  of  the  inner  selves  of  the  various  personages  who  figure  in  the  story. . . . 
A  charming  idyl. — N.  Y.  Mail  and  Express. 

The  execution  is  admirable.  .  .  .  The  characters  are  the  clearest  studies, 
and  are  typical  of  a  certain  phase  of  French  life.  .  .  .  The  story  is  fanciful, 
graceful,  and  piquant,  and  Reinhart's  illustrations  add  to  its  flavor. — Bos 
ton  Journal. 

The  peculiar  vivacity  of  the  French  style  is  blended  with  a  subtle  char- 
ncter-analysis  that  is  one  of  the  best  things  in  that  line  that  has  been  pro- 
duced  for  a  long  time.  It  is  one  of  the  most  brilliant  pieces  of  literary 
work  that  has  appeared  for  years,  and  the  interest  is  sustained  almost 
breathlessly. — Boston  Evening  Traveller. 

The  authoress  of  "At  the  Red  Glove"  knows  how  to  paint  a  flesh-and- 
blood  woman,  grateful  to  all  the- senses,  and  respectable  for  the  qualities 
of  her  mind  and  heart.  .  .  .  All  in  all,  "At  the  Red  Glove"  is  one  of  the 
most  delightful  of  novels  since  Miss  Woolson  wrote  "For  the  Major." — 
N.  Y.  Times. 

The  novel  is  one  of  the  best  things  of  the  summer  as  a  delicious  bit  of 
entertainment,  prepared  with  perfect  art  and  presented  without  a  sign  of 
effort. — N.  Y.  Commercial  Advertiser. 

It  is  an  artistic  and  agreeable  reproduction,  in  bright  colors,  of  French 
sentiment  and  feeling.  ...  It  is  an  abiding  relief  to  read  it,  after  such 
studies  as  novels  in  this  country  fashionably  impose. — Boston  Globe. 

A  charming  little  story.  .  .  .  The  characters  are  well  drawn,  with  fresh 
ness  and  with  adequacy  of  treatment,  and  the  style  is  crisp  and  ofttimea 
trenchant. — Boston  Advertiser. 

A  very  pretty  story,  simply  and  exquisitely  told.  .  .  .  The  ups  and  downs 
of  the  courtship  are  drawn  with  a  master's  hand. — Cincinnati  Inquirer. 

There  has  been  no  such  pleasant  novel  of  Swiss  social  life  as  this.  .  .  . 
The  book  is  one  that  tourists  and  summer  idlers  will  do  well  to  add  to 
their  travelling  libraries  for  the  season. — Philadelphia  Bulletin. 


PUBLISHED  BY  HARPER   &   BROTHERS,  NEW  YORK. 

=•  The  above  work  sent  by  mail,  postage  prepaid,  to  any  part  of  the  United  States 
or  Canada,  on  receipt  of  the  price. 


